


Young Bucks

by CaptainCorgi



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Anal Sex, Bounty Hunters, Canon-Typical Violence, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fanfiction of Fanfiction, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Minor Implied Racism, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Questionable Western Justice, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, War Stories, World is Not Black and White
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-27
Updated: 2016-10-27
Packaged: 2018-08-27 01:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 23,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8382709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainCorgi/pseuds/CaptainCorgi
Summary: The year is 1869. Four years have passed since the last shot was fired but war still rages on within the hearts of the American youth. War changed the landscape and the country's men. Jack Morrison, former soldier turned bounty hunter, is one such man. Tasked with tracking down and bringing to justice the infamous outlaw Gabriel Reyes.Morrison doesn't expect the outlaw to not only steal his horse... but also his heart.Alternatively Titled: “An Attempt at a Harlequin Romance Novel Featuring Everyone’s Favorite Edgy Dads”





	1. Balled Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bamfbugboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfbugboy/gifts), [Zath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zath/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Petals on the River](https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394560) by [bamfbugboy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bamfbugboy/pseuds/bamfbugboy), [Zath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zath/pseuds/Zath). 



> Bamf came to me asking for a made up title for a harlequin romance novel and I gave her the title of "Young Bucks". After several conversations and creating a baseline for a story it sounded like it would be a good read. Whelp. Here is my attempt at creating the novel that many characters in bamf and zath's story "Petals on the River" have read.
> 
> Just with Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes in the staring roles because who doesn't love edgy dads dropped into an old west setting. Don't tell me Jack and Gabriel in stetsons doesn't sound hot.
> 
> Shout out to the wonderful beta PinkRambo AKA Mom! :D
> 
> Note: Translations are at the end of the chapter. I do not know how to do the hover text with Ao3's formatting.

“He passed through three days ago. Dead of night. Took the whole bank and headed west.” Sighing, folding the poster back into neat squares, he shoved the paper into his back pocket and thanked the old timer for the answer. Another dead end. Always two steps behind. For three months now he’d been tracking the outlaw through desert, canyons and the lawless West. This time the outcome was supposed to be different.

One gloved hand rubbed his forehead in frustration, grunting out a moan for emphasis. He ignored the looks from the few locals walking by. It was midday in a decent sized town. The streets weren't bustling but they weren't empty. The woman wearing a bright blue bonnet stared a tad too long but it got him moving free from self pity.

His mare was hitched out in front of the bank. With one hand on the saddle horn, he fit a foot into the stirrup and stepped up into the seat. She pranced beneath him, ears flicking up and back and nostrils snorting as she picked up on his irritation. Admittedly, he may have dug in his spurs and jerked the reins a bit too roughly.

“Sorry girl,” Jack gave a soft pat to the animal’s neck until she calmed, stopped dancing in place. “I'm just in a mood. Shouldn't take it out on you.”

Four white socks pranced in place before he guided her away from the bank. Three days late. The criminal Gabriel Reyes was wanted across the whole of the American West. When Reyes’ war record had been uncovered, Jack became involved. Federal law had slammed Reyes with murder and treason: an unfortunate side effect of finishing the war on the wrong side. The man's bounty doubled overnight. Twenty-five hundred was a price tag not easily ignored. Many greedy do gooders tried their hand at tracking down the criminal but their efforts were fruitless.

This town - Prescott - was the latest victim. The bank cleaned out. Not a paper bill left. No civilian deaths. Some minor injuries and the deputy had a nasty concussion. The sole casualty was the sheriff; ex-Union officer of minor standing and the one person to fire at the outlaw. Reyes had been the better shot. The teller's comment on the manners and suave words of the criminal settled in the back of Jack’s head.

Apparently, the cocky son of a bitch even took the time to chat up the local husbandry and leave the women with flights of fancy. He steered his mount towards the road, saddlebags restocked and took a bearing west. If what the local said was correct then a bit of hard riding would see him caught up to the criminal.

Two days battling the desert and wilderness found him in a no name town. There was no bank here. There was a saloon. One look at the busted entrance and shattered window elevated his suspicions. After locating what stood for law in the town - a portly fella with no business carrying authority - Jack’s suspicions were confirmed. Reyes had hit here too. Taken the saloon for its worth and left. No deaths. Two guys with broken bones and a hell of a lot of wounded pride.

The town’s lawman questioned him about the potential of seeing their stolen goods returned. Jack took satisfaction in replying in the negative. Gabriel Reyes spent the dough as soon as he took it. This town wouldn't be seeing their green again. The chubby fella deflated, grumbling and pointing Jack further west when demanded to know which way Reyes had gone. Carrying around a revolver on each hip with a rifle strapped to the saddle, along with the authority of federal law granted serious persuasion power. Restocking, and spending a night at the inn, Jack set out before dawn in the direction he’d been given.

Day and night passed. He was on the trail with only his thoughts as company, curled up next to a fire and leaning against an outcropping. The night sky was a mess of sparkling stars, clear and open in a way that suggested tomorrow'd be an easy trail. Jack removed the wanted poster - torn at the edges, creased and colored from rubbing around in his back pocket - and he studied the hasty sketch. A photograph would’ve been better but the man he hunted was a mercenary, freelance during the war so there was no army photo to print. Just some artist’s rendition of a man hardened by his history. The reward was bold, taunting with its digits, and scrawled beneath that crimes reading like a sunday grocery list.

What the poster didn't say was that Reyes had a penchant for giving away the money he stole. Tales of ranchers chasing off carpet baggers with wads of cash or broken towns suddenly experiencing an influx of funds to fix their debts - all on the heels of where Reyes had ridden. Jack sighed. The actions spoke of a man desperate to right the wrongs in the post-war world but that is why law existed. Taking matters in one's own hands, acting against the government, even for ‘noble' intentions did not create a saint out of a sinner. Murder was murder. Robbery was not diminished by spending the loot for selfless gain. Jack folded the poster, embers of conflict stirring in his breast, and he shoved it back into its home, curling the threadbare blanket tighter around his shoulders. His makeshift meal of beans lay cold and forgotten.

By midday he had arrived at a border town. It was bigger than his previous stop, but sure as hell wasn’t no Phoenix. The targets here were numerous. For once there was no evidence of Reyes. No dead bodies. No broken bones. God willing, he’d keep it that way. Jack steered towards the local law, flashed his credentials, and kicked the sleepy sheriff into gear. If the outlaw hadn't made it this far then this chance to finally catch him was dropped in Jack's lap. The bank was a modern marvel with the latest locks and security. Even at the praise of the bank manager and cooing words of the tellers, Jack wasn't impressed. The man he hunted had already cleaned out fancier places with better security.

By evening Jack has taken up residence in the saloon across from the bank. The window was the ideal vantage point. The view offers a three sided picture of the building, glinting white in the pale moonlight, tempting with its innocuous facade. His rifle rested by the opened window, loaded and primed. Each revolver tucked into its holster, strapped to his hips, digging in, the familiar weight and uncomfortable press of metal into his thighs keeping him alert and awake. Crouched, half a dozen cups of coffee running through his system, Jack groaned. His feet slide out, heels hitting the wall below the window. It was near dawn. No sign of the wanted man. Dawn crested and Jack crawled into the springy bed. Holsters dropped onto the nightstand, boots fell at the foot of the bed frame and he conked out until late afternoon. By evening he grabbed whatever was left in the kitchen of the saloon, took the plate to his room and settled for his night vigil.

Night turned to day. Nothing. No sign of life other than the citizens. One more day he convinced himself. One more day then he would try to find the trail again. The pattern Reyes followed was not the easiest to uncover but when Jack scoured the reports the clues made sense. There was a home base somewhere out in the tip of California - where Mexico and the state held hands - that the outlaw would vanish into after a crime spree. Months later he would resurface in Arizona or Nevada. He never went after the same town twice. Once robbed it was like that town had a pass. The people had served their purpose, no need to steal a second time. A criminal with morals. Jack snorted.

The third evening descended and he could admit to not expecting anything. The past days had been dragged out. He had gone through a dozen dime novels: the ones that the saloon owner offered weren't Jack's particular taste but they helped pass the time. Half read and sitting with the binding pressed open, the novel Jack was reading concerned the strangest story of east meets west. What drew his attention from the words was the sudden commotion outside his window. Hands jerking towards his gun, he peered out, the silence now fallen heavily after the initial crash. The rifle balanced in his hands, watching the windows and doors carefully. The stars and moon served as his light, and he caught the flash of metal as a body moved across a far right window. Eyes narrowed, concentrating, Jack scanned for another indication of life inside the bank.

Another flash of silver, the left window. Jack shifted, rolled his shoulder, breathing even, finger pressed flat against the trigger guard. Silhouetted in the darkened glass a figure stood, half turned. Jack couldn't make out which direction it was facing. His hand tightened around the rifle. The figure seemed to shift its weight, the glimmer of metal returning. Jack ducked at the same instances that buckshot torn through the frame and wood of the window. Cursing, he heard the scramble of boots on wood followed close with the banging of a door. He fired at the faint outline of a retreating figure. The bullet missed its mark and he swung the rifle across his back.

The whinny of a horse cracked the night and Jack was on his feet. Hands scrambled, grabbing his few belongings, storming down the saloon stairs and across the street to the stables. Too much time passed and Jack dove through the barn door pushing his horse into a gallop. There were two ways out of the town and he had one guess. Head west. The lights of the people awoken by the noise disappeared at his back, hunched over his saddle, eyes scanning the horizon for any sign or speck of life. Lathered and panting he finally stopped, halting the mad dash by the entrance to a series of rocky protrusions.

Jack kicked the ground, cursing his luck, berating the way he had been so clearly out maneuvered. His horse shied away from the anger, shaking her mane. It was too late to find his way back - the town had vanished from sight - and it would be unfair to ask more from his animal than he already had. With a huff, he lead the mare forward following the outcroppings until a stream presented itself. There he pulled the saddlebags off, rummaging for the blanket and placed the cover on top of the bags. He slid the saddle off the mare’s back, folded the saddle blanket but left the bridle in place. Next a small fire. His horse was tied loosely to a cross of sticks shoved into the dirt. Jack settled down facing the tiny light, legs outstretched, blanket draped over his chest and ankles crossed. His hat tipped forward, belt holster set beside his saddlebag and rifle laid at his right side. With a yawn he scooted further down, drifting to sleep.

\-----

Waking to the shuffle of hooves was one thing. Waking to the sight of metal kissing cold against his throat was another.

“You're too pretty to be a lawman,” the voice was gruff, hardened through life into a deep rumble.

“You going to kill me or court me?” Jack snapped back, raising his head, tilting away from the shotgun barrel. His hands twitched, revolvers holstered and concealed underneath the blanket. Slow movements, reaching for the six shooters, ocean eyes trained on the outlaw for an indication or twitchy trigger finger.

A gloved hand ripped off the blanket. Jack's hands exposed for their intention. Even in the dark, the fire a mere simmer, he heard the condescending sigh and visualized the raised brow.

“ _Pendejo,_ hands up.” The shotgun bobbed, mimicking the motion the words ordered. Jack waited a heartbeat too long, staring up the barrel, attempting to match the haphazard artist rendition to the real deal. The chilled metal caressed his throat, bringing down reality. With exaggerated movements, Jack unbuckled the belt and dropped the holsters. His hands went up, palms out, as nonthreatening as possible. The outlaw kicked away the revolvers, free hand reaching down to tug the butt of the rifle, bracing the longer weapon against his left leg. “Cuffs. Where are you keeping them?”

“My pack,” Jack jerked his head and hand in the direction of the saddlebags he still leaned against.

“Get them.” The shotgun dropped, nudging Jack's collarbone. Silent warning. Jack turned, precise movements, keeping the outlaw on his peripheral vision. The cuffs were near the top, within easy reach. Clanging together, he tossed them at the ground.

When the figure leaned to grasp the metal, Jack lunged. The shotgun barrel batted to the side, arms grappling for purchase around the other man's knees. In a scramble of limbs the shotgun went off. The high pitched wicker of horses punctuated the facing echo. Jack was sprawled across the lower half of the outlaw, hands grabbing for clothing, a belt, pants, anything to get a hand up. A fist connected with the meat of his cheek. Jack blinked away spots, equilibrium thrown. Teeth gritted, Jack ducked the second fist, pushing himself up. The outlaw took the brief second of no weight on his legs, kicking up, knee jamming into Jack's gut. The lawman grunted, rolled off, hands searching for a weapon in the near complete dark. Jack's breath gulping down on a pained wheeze. The second Jack’s hand connected with the familiar handle of a revolver the pressure from the shotgun returned: pushing into Jack's spine, just below the top vertebrae.

“ _Hijo de puta_ ,” the words spat out as the barrel dug into Jack's back. He bit the inside of his cheek, hands coming up empty. “Try that again, I'll leave you to the coyotes.” Shuffling footsteps, steel on steel and Jack felt his arms jerked back, cuffs clipped into place. On his knees, facing away from the outlaw, Jack was cursing his own stupidity. Making himself an easy target when he had known his prey was potentially close had been a rookie mistake.

“You got me.” The lawman ground out, shifting, rolling a shoulder. “What's your plan now? Going to add murder of an officer of law to that list of yours?” Taunting perhaps wasn't the wisest course of action but if he could maybe keep the guy distracted then wiggling out of the restraints was an option.

“No. Why?” The shotgun was now stowed away, the criminal crouched down, patting large hands over Jack's waist and pockets, searching for any hidden weapons. The outlaw was thorough, Jack was begrudging to admit. “You have a death wish? Oh? What's this? Got a weapon hidden I need to know about?” A hefty palm brushed against the front of his pants and Jack jerked away. The lawman turned his head, hunching over slightly, drawing back from those troublesome hands.

“I don't have any other weapons,” Jack snapped, glaring at the silhouette over his shoulder.

“I’d argue you do,” the outlaw grinned, flashing whites and shoving the layman’s head down as he stood. “No need to be ashamed. Some men just get their rocks in weird ways.” Openly mocking now, he gathered up the guns - shotgun stored back into a saddle holster, revolver belt tossed over the saddlehorn and the rifle slung across his back. “You got a name lawman?”

“Morrison,” he would be damned if the outlaw would get his first name. Small victories.

“Morrison.” He tasted the word, rolled it around. “Nope. Haven't heard of you.” The chuckle was dark, chilling mirth as rough hands dragged Jack around, resting him against the rocks of the overhang. “They're sending rookies after me now. Must be getting desperate.”

Jack stilled in his fidgeting, using the other’s voice to drown out his attempt to escape. The flash of a match, fire encapsulating the features of his attacker around the warm glow of a cigarette confirmed those suspicions. His mind settled the matter his brain had been dancing around. Reyes was a damn sight better in person than the ridiculous artist rendition on the wanted posters. The man was crouched down again, easily a foot away, smirking at Jack with open irony.

“You got the drop on me.” Jack's chin tilted back, defiant, glaring at the outlaw. “Won't happen again.”

“Nope. It won't.” The ring of smoke wafted through the distance, smacking Jack's face harsher than any physical blow. “What's my bounty at now?”

“Twenty five hundred,” his head turned, blowing away the smoke.

“Damn,” whistling Reyes rocked back on his heels, hands coming down to push off his knees. “And they send a rookie. I'm insulted.”

“I'm no rookie,” Jack muttered.

“No? How long have you been tracking me? Few weeks? A month?” Reyes was moving about the camp, filing through Jack's pack. Producing a tin, he pried the top off and set it down, scrounging around in the pack again.

“Three months,” Jack pointedly didn't look when the movement stopped; the outlaw quite still.

“You're kidding,” Reyes coughed, failing to cover the half choked guffaw from escaping. Jack glared in return, blues eyes narrow slits of simmering anger. “Damn. You aren't.”

Jack stayed quiet, brooding, watching the outlaw begin to munch away as his provisions like it was Sunday brunch. Reyes had stoked the fire back into a subdued blaze - warm yet not overbearing. The cigarette had been tossed into the fire, barely consumed. The quiet of the camp fell over them. His shoulders started going stiff, the occasional roll the barest relief. He had given up escaping when the sharp pair of eyes observed, calculated the slightest movement. The rifle slung across Reyes shoulders: Jack was sure the man could swing the weapon around and bring it to bear in a heartbeat if Jack tried something funny.

“Well Morrison thank you for the food,” the outlaw rose, dusting off his pants. With a heft, Reyes lifted Jack to his feet. The cuffs came off, the outlaw’s calloused hands firm, holding both wrists together and rebinding Jack's wrists against his belt. “I'm not without some manners so I'll tell it to you straight.” He kicked Jack's legs out, the lawman flopping into his backside with a shout. Grimacing against the new pain in his rear Jack focused on the wanted man. “I'm leaving you out here.”

“You-” He was cut off when the rifle pressed against the underside of his chin. Jack's eyes flared with indignation. He’d been correct. Reyes was quick with his hands. Seconds and the rifle was brought to the ready.

“Don't waste your breath, I've already heard everything anyone could call me. I'm leaving the pack and your blanket. Next town is fifteen miles or so north.” Reyes removed the gun, returned to his back. He grabbed the second saddle and threw the fancy lawman leather piece over the back of Jack's mare. “Nice horse.” The blanket was tossed over Jack's lap, covering the cuffed wrists and the outlaw kicked the fire dead. “I'll make sure she finds a pretty little rich girl to take care of her. This part you're going to hate but I can't have you following me.”

Even before the words. Before the swing of the rifle butt for his head. Before the impact or the taunting words that followed, Jack swore to make tracking Gabriel Reyes a personal vendetta. Vision swimming, falling forward with the spots blinking, he tasted blood against his cheek. Must've bit it.

“ _Mierda,_ you have a hard head.” The second blow found Jack laid out, edges going black yet hearing just as functional as ever. “You really are too damn pretty for a lawman.”

Jack watched as the silhouette raised his hands, stowed the rifle, swung into the saddle and melded into the darkness of the desert with his horse, his food, his guns and his dignity. He was going to have a nasty headache when he woke up.

\-----

Three days. No shelter. One canteen of water. No food. It had taken a day to wrangle out of the cuffs and his wrists were raw, oozing blood and dirt caked. The itch forewarned of a condition he refused to acknowledge. The water from the canteen only cleaned so well. He had access to nothing disinfectant.

The headache was another issue. A hammer banging around inside a confined space. There was more blood matted into blonde hair. The butt of the rifle punctured the skin above his ear. The dried trail had been scrubbed away.

It was midday. The sun unbearable. He was going through force of will and cursing every step in Reyes’ name. Cacti were his only company. They weren't the best conversationalists but they didn't talk back. He ranted, dragging one foot then another, the fauna the unfortunate punching bag for his verbal abuse.

“And another thing!” Jack's volume pitched and died with the strength of his throat. Chapped and dry the words the garbled mess of the delusional. His finger poked at the green creature waving, taunting the lawman with its complacent silence. “What kind of god created a man that gorgeous then proceeds ‘man cannot lie with man’?” Jack yelped, jerking back his hand, sucking on the punctured finger and kicking at the cactus.

“I'm an abomination!” Hands in the air, the ravings of a madman, he hopped from foot to foot moving in any direction. “Gabriel fucking Reyes is my angel of death! I'm a good man! I pay my taxes! I served my country!” On the verge of hysterical cries, he collapsed to his knees only to scramble up again, half crouched, glaring as another green creature with a strange pink bonnet grinned at him.

He ripped the poster from his back pocket, staring at the blurred image of an sketch artist’s rendition. It really didn't do the outlaw justice. His hand crumpled the paper, creasing and mangling the grinning visage into obscurity. The ball of useless yellow parchment flew through the air behind his strangled cry.

“Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable.” His fingers wove through the air, quoting the scripture with open animosity. “I'm a terrible man. I should have saved the cuffs…” He hiccuped, glaring at the pink bonnet, falling over into his rear. Legs sprawled out, touching the pink bonnet and the silken fabric of the accessory. Jack snorted.

Beyond the horizon lines danced, giving way to illusion and the strangest sight of three silhouettes. They were approaching. Coming for him. The horsemen. He laughed - dry, hoarse - throwing his body onto the ground. Embracing his demise.

His eyes drifted close. Breathing ragged, rattling his chest. The pack had been dropped some time ago; he didn't know where. An empty, bone dry canteen banged against his stomach mocking. The hooves were audible now. Subtle vibrations through the ground. Head turned, the strange pink bonnet emotionless - his tongue stuck out, the most pathetic raspberry. He grumbled, eyes shutting again, kicking at the ground. Couldn't death stop being an ass and hurry up.

The hooves stopped, hot breath from a nose ruffling his bleach blonde hair. Blunt teeth nibbled at the tufts and Jack shouted, batting at the nose and received a butt from the equine’s nose in retaliation.

“ _Estas vivo?_ ” Boots dug into the ground by his head, a gentle hand brushing stray hairs off his forehead. A decidedly feminine touch and tone. “ _Donde esta tu caballo?_ ” Jack cracked one eye open, the woman's features obscured by the halo of sun behind raven hair. A calloused thumb pressed against the cut behind his head producing a yelp.

Muttered words in Spanish, exchanged between two speakers. The new voice tinged in annoyance, a sharp huff at the end of each sentence. Jack just listened, breathing, pondering his life and finding it terribly lacking. His mother would berate him until the cows came home about never producing children. Never finding a good woman. Never settling down. His parents hadn't survived the ravages of typhoid. He had learned of their deaths through a letter from an uncle. His family estate already sold in his absence.

Another touch to the raw skin of his wrists and Jack flipped onto his side, curling into a ball. Death was a bastard, his minions toying with the lawman before releasing him. The worst part, they didn't even speak English. Jack felt affronted, indignant yet too weak to bite back the handful of vehement Spanish he knew.

“ _No creo que nos entiende.”_ A third voice. Younger, soft, kinder even. Hooves pranced around his head and Jack coughed. Death was recruiting children now. How ironic. The protege his mother desired so desperately come to take him to the afterlife. Fire and brimstone never sounded so innocent.

“ _Güero loco._ ” The second speaker. Bridled irritation in the words. He knew what loco meant.

“No! No _loco!_ ” Jack snapped, arm lashing out to be snatched around the wrist. Digits encompassing his raw wounds had Jack writhing to get loose.

“ _Ponlo en el caballo._ ” The first voice: a halo of raven hair. Calm and soothing.

“ _No lo vamos ah llevar para tras a la casa!_ ” The second voice was edging into insubordination. Jack shook, his wrist released, the touch of hands attempting to bundle him off somewhere. His conscious was teetering over the edge. If this wasn't Death maybe being unconscious when the coyotes started picking at his bones was his escape from the mortal coil. He coughed out a laugh.

“ _Si. Vamos,_ ” the raven halo grabbed at his upper arms, dragging his uncooperative body across the ground. Onto something soft. A rug? A cloth? He buried his face into the fabric. It smelled of dust, the desert and desperation. “ _Escúchame bien, ponlo arriba del caballo._ ”

The hands rolled him into the blanket or wrap. Strained grunts causing him to giggle, snuggling into the sudden restraint. Moments later and his breath was knocked out of him. Thrown over the saddle horn of a horse like so much meat. His head lolled to the side, wincing at the pressure of his wrists pressed against his side.

“ _Gringo estúpido._ ” Right by his ear. He chuckled, both because he understood that saying and because he got a good look at the speaker. A young girl. No older than sixteen with hair tied up and clothed in the plainest of dresses. The scowl on her cherub face was a direct counter to the foul words.

“Daniella! _No digas groserías_.” The matronly voice.

The teenager’s hand connected with his face, snapping his head sideways and Jack only laughed louder. Jack was the reason she got reprimanded. Take it out on the defenseless lawman. The horse lurched underneath him, slapping his chin against the neck and snapped his teeth together. They continued conversing in rapid Spanish. He caught a word here and there but the ones he recognized were few and far between. He gave in to the drowsy weight in his limbs. He couldn't fight to get away. Just give in. He did just that - soon snoring bundled in a blanket, his head tapping a rhythm against the horse’s neck.

\-----

Drifting, floating… drowning. Jack jerked awake coughing, doubled over, fist pumping against his chest to clear the blockade. A jumble of furious words punctuated with the rhythm of fierce tiny fists hitting his back.

“Alright.” He choked out. The pounding continued. He shifted, trying to spin away. “Alright!” He reached back, slapping at the hands. They retracted with a huff of indignation. “I'm fine.”

“Hardly. _Tu eres un güero loco_ running around the desert with no water and no horse,” Jack glanced over his shoulder as the indignant voice from before. The cherub with the dirty mouth.

“It was stolen,” Jack snapped back. Getting into an argument with a child. Worst things had happened. Gabriel fucking Reyes had happened.

“Of course it was. _Obvió_ .” She grumbled. Now standing at the side of the bed, arms crossed in visible annoyance. “What band robbed you _idiotá_?”

“Wasn't a band.” Jack's eyes looked around the one room house. He sat on one of two beds - this the smaller. A rough quilt laid across his lower half. The shirt that lay open about his chest, stained in various places, fit snuggly. It wasn't his own. At least the pants he spied over the edge of the scrunched blanket looked like his own.

“Coyote? Skinwalker? Taxman?” She questioned, shuffling across the space to toss a bowl into a soapy basin. The second suggestion was a tease by the hint of disbelief at the end of the word. The third was utter disdain. Good to know someone ranked higher on her list of hatred than he did.

“An outlaw. Caught me sleeping.” Jack kept his eyes trained on the girl, curious as to where the other two silhouettes from his hazy delusions existed.

“Well I say you got out pretty decent _gringo._ ” She returned to his side, grabbing an arm and beginning to strip away the soiled bandage. The skin underneath was tender but not raw. The beginnings of scabs forming. Infection no longer an issue from the pink tone of healing skin. “I wanted to leave you out there. Sun already had you all kinds of _loco_. But mama she is too nice. Picks up all the strays. Your ass is lucky.” She babbled on, voice caught between open hostility and twisted amusement. One feminine hand dug a bit too deeply into cleaning the wounds and Jack hissed through his teeth.

“Aren't you a charming lass,” he mumbled, offering his other wrist and winced only once when she none too tenderly cleaned the fresh skin.

“Don't intend to be.” Her hand held onto his arm, grabbed the bowl by the side table, smearing a cream across the wounds. “I don't want you here but mama does so you're stuck with me.” Her hands were mechanical. She’d done this before - tend to a wound yet not necessarily the kind the looked like an escaped convict. “Don't touch anything for a while. Cream needs to dry then new bandages.” The old bandages in her hands, she dumped them into a second bowl, scrubbing away various dried stains.

“Where am I?” Jack stared down at the wrists, turning them over, desperate to keep the conversation (no matter how strained) going so his mind didn't have a chance to wander to more unpleasant - or pleasant - topics.

“My family’s ranch.” She moved through the house, righting bowls, fidgeting, keeping her hands busy. “What's left of it.” A strained whisper and he clenched his fists, resisting the urge to call her over, offer a warm embrace.

Here was a child, molded into a hardened frontier caricature out of necessity but a child nonetheless. Under the biting attitude, stuff movements and angry witticism, she was a girl with a soul too old in a body too young. War was a terrible ravager even after it was over.

“Where-?”

“Mama will be home soon. Since you're awake now and took up her bed for four days, well,” the young woman let the sentence dangle, a dangerous mischief lingering in dark brown eyes. His glared from the interruption turned to slight trepidation. Four days? The trail would’ve long gone cold. Starting from point one in tracking down the outlaw wasn't something he was keen on. But four days? The news combined with the teenager’s glance made his skin crawl. He had been their unwanted guest. Kindness wasn't a free commodity in the barren West. Whatever was demanded in recompense he prayed he could afford. “Oye! Are you paying attention?” Fingers snapped inches from his face and Jack blinked, refocusing. The young woman glared at him, hands on her hips and shaking her head. “ _Idiot must've hit his head too._ ”

“Apologies,” Jack shifted on the bed, legs coming around to rest on the floor. The packed dirt ground cooled the soles of his bare feet. “Jack.”

The teenager sniffed at him. “That's nice. I'm not getting friendly with you.” She turned away, returning to the bowl with the bandages, attaching the individual ribbons of fabric to a clothes line. The line ran the length of the opposite wall. It was the first time he noticed other articles of clothing: a small dress, a light blue shawl and what was definitely undergarments.

“I tried,” he said, looking away.

“You're redder than a tomato! Never seen a woman's undergarments before?” She caught his eyes, the sudden turn of his head and the pieces fell into place. He groaned. “You're so white. No wonder you're wandering around the desert. Bet you are some poor farm boy looking to get his fortune in the gold mines.”

“No…” He started but cut himself off when the door to the home opening.

A flash of bright yellow dashed across the space between the entrance and the young woman's skirts. He blinked. A pair of unsure hazel eyes peeked out at him from behind the teenager’s dress. She bent down, whispering into tiny ears and an unsure nod followed. The little girl, hair in pigtails, an overstuffed pig doll tucked against her side, wearing a hand-me-down dress with patches across the pleats edged out from behind the teenager's legs. Her skin had a tan tone, much lighter than the young woman.

“You're awake,” the matronly voice from his delirium. The woman standing in the doorway was darker complected, shoulders slumped under the weight of years of hard labor but the expression of warmth across a well lined face belayed the pressure of western life. “When did he wake up?” She directed the question at the teenager. The young woman snapped back a reply, crossed the space and took the baskets the older woman carried.

“Ma’am. I appreciate your help but-” A dainty calloused hand snapped up. Jack's jaw followed suit. Cut off again - common trait among this family.

“Don't get up. You were knocking on death’s door.” Her index finger pointed in his direction. Jack felt the weight of that digit even across the room. The sensation of a mother reprimanding an errant child. “You're to stay in bed until I say otherwise. If you're worried about repayment don't be. Once you're well enough I have a fence that needs mending, cows that need to be brought in and a well wall that requires rebuilding. Does that sound fair to you?” Her voice said no negotiation despite the question at the end.

“Yes ma’am.” He snapped out. If that was the price of their kindness, he would pay it.

\-----

Under the blazing heat of the desert sun he felt the exhaustion in his bones. It was a week before Frieda allowed him out of bed. Daniella, the older daughter, was his caretaker. The younger daughter, Rose-Marie, skirted around him, avoided any attempts he made to try befriending the quiet little girl. Jack learned their names after the first day because Frieda did not appreciate being called ma’am. Only ladies in high society or who thought too highly of themselves answered to ma’am.

After his time on bed rest, the list Frieda gave him proved to be longer than originally quoted. The fences had been easy. The cows a little more difficult. With only one horse on the ranch that would allow him to ride it, Jack still fought with the beast as much as he did the stubborn five head of cattle. The bull was another terror. Meeting that four legged terror resulted in the lawman earning a few bruised ribs after being butted across the pen. He grew up on a farm. A ranch should have been no different but that had been a familial estate that raised chickens and pigs not cows and definitely not the world’s most ornery bull. Daniella joked that animal’s name was _Diablo_. Jack had rolled his eyes at the moniker - it fit too well. Returning to the homestead after wrestling with the bull Frieda let him know the animal’s name was Wildfire. Rose-Marie had come up with the name.

Two weeks passed and the last thing on the list was the well. It was only mid morning and already the heat of the desert was getting to him. Jack discarded the borrowed shirt, tossing the clothing to the side, lowering himself into the hole. It was cramped and uncomfortable but the walls had caved in recently, coating the bottom in mud. Using a shovel in the small space was nearly impossible. Jack managed for the majority of the day yet was unable to complete the task. Climbing out was another issue. Daniella was instructed to helping him but the young woman had an excuse for everything. Where she was now he couldn’t say.

Covered in mud, experiencing the miserable feeling of being wet and hot at the same time, he groaned, sitting with his back against the well wall. If he tried he could get this done in a day. Maybe sooner. Jack let his head fall and stared at the sky. It was a beautiful day - under the right circumstances. Not today and definitely not to the lawman. He sat there, thinking about the bounty he was tasked with tracking down. Thought about how that bounty had humiliated and left him for dead. How that bounty was unreasonably attractive and the worldview on his choices would never be accepted. Jack bemoaned the situation, rubbing an arm across his forehead and slipped back down into the well. The stones that had fallen inside were one by one throwing out of the hole. Each solid thump of shaped rock against the hard earth was another tick in Jack’s head to the sins he had committed in thinking of Gabriel Reyes as anything other than a paycheck.

\-----

The horses tossed their heads, annoyed at the heat. He patted his mount’s neck with a soothing noise. They were almost home. Not long now. His mother was always surprised at his return. His visits were sporadic but he made sure to return with lavish gifts. A new mount for Rose-Marie. A shining new set of revolvers for Daniella. And half a year's payment on the ranch for mother.

Gabriel winced when the smooth canter they traveled at balked, jarring a healing bullet wound in his side (a graze really) jerking the scab taunt. Glancing down, his horse backed up, sidling around a rattler hissing in their path. The revolver at his hip snapped out, the gunshot cracked in the air and the snake’s head disappeared in a spray of blood and offal. Holstering the gun Gabriel guided the horse away from the carnage, steering the gelding back onto the correct path.

The mare lashed behind him was another story. She appeared unconcerned with the close range shot, barely shying away, her ears perked forward for a brief moment the single indication the animal cared about Gabriel's actions. He shrugged. The horse was strange. Since he’d stolen her, the animal was the picture of nonchalance about everything. That bomb proof attitude was what endeared the horse to him and why instead of selling the mare first chance he had, Gabriel kept her as a present for his youngest sister. Rose-Marie was going to get too big for her pony soon anyway.

The mare wasn't military. He had searched for a brand but found none meaning the lawman Gabriel had accosted probably trained the beast himself. A rather impressive feat. He wondered about the man - Morrison - for days after their encounter. The man was unremarkable in the darkness. Blond hair, muscular build, and the strangest notions as Gabriel recalled the slight bulge in the man's pants as he patted the lawman down. What stayed with him wasn't those traits though. It was the defiant, stern blue eyes with the firefight reflecting in them. They were gorgeous yet deadly and Gabriel counted himself fortunate for finding the man on his terms. The lawman was a good shot. The faded, scarred over bullet wound on his hip evident of that fact. Gabriel refocused his thoughts, wiping his brow under the black rim of a worn and warped stetson, urging his mount into an easy lope.

A few more hours and the first visages of his familial home came into view. He passed through a makeshift entrance. The wooden posts were recently replaced. Newer dense posts dotted along the pathway, Gabriel noted. His mother either hired someone or, more likely, coerced another unfortunate vagabond into working around the place for food and housing. It wouldn't be the first time. It was how Rose-Marie was born.

A handsome man, displaced and looking for shelter, had come to the ranch and Gabriel's mother took him in. With his biological father’s grave still fresh, the man agreed to the terms Frieda gave him. For a month the man worked on the ranch. While Gabriel was away fighting in the war the stranger assaulted Daniella and held the two woman at gunpoint. Gabriel learned that his mother had given herself to the man in order to save her daughter the trauma. Daniella shot the man with Gabriel’s father’s rifle. Gabriel still remembered coming home to find an unmarked grave and a young sister who refused to look him in the eye. Six months later they found the stranger had left a lasting mark on the family.

The horse under him huffed, blowing air in a puff of dirt and Gabriel urged the grey animal into a canter. He was eager to dismount. Reaching the front of the handmade house, he swung out of the saddle and tossed both animals’ reins over a fence post. The door was closed, no longer hanging off its hinges awkwardly. Another thing mother had this stranger fix.

Without knocking Gabriel flung the door open, smiling, catching his family mid conversation and was soon gasping when all fifty pounds of six year old barreled into his legs. He hoisted the little girl up, holding her against his hip to return the equally exuberant embrace from his other sister. Drifting into Spanish was a comfort he hadn't experienced in a long while. The vowels rolled off his tongue and Gabriel felt home.

“ _I've missed you both._ ” He released Daniella as his mother took her place. He placed a quick kiss to the slowly wrinkling forehead. Frieda returned the affection with a peck to each of his cheeks. “ _But especially you mama._ ”

“ _It is good to have you back Gabriel. How was the drive?_ ” Frieda asked, flipping a long braid over her shoulder. There was more grey in her hair than he remembered.

“ _Lost a few to exhaustion and a horse to a rattlesnake bite. Got 300 head to the stockyards._ ” He rattled off the lie with a silver tongue. Rose-Marie wriggled on his hip, small feet kicking at the handle of the revolvers strapped to his waist. Gabriel adjusted her weight, tapping the six year old’s nose to get her to stop fidgeting. “ _What poor bastard did you get to help you around here while I was gone?_ ”

“ _Gabriel! Language._ ” Frieda crossed her arms, glaring from her son to her youngest daughter and Gabriel chuckled.

“ _Rosa you know that is a bad word yes?_ ” The little girl nodded, burying her head in his shoulder and grinned. He mimicked the emotion. “ _See! Doesn't affect her._ ”

“ _Gabriel,_ ” Frieda tapped her foot against the dirt. He got the hint, put Rosa down and knelt to her level.

“ _Now that is a bad word. Don't repeat it alright?_ ” Gabriel waited for Rosa to nod, hands held before her and swaying side to side with a cheeky grin. “ _Promise?_ ”

“ _Yes Gabi!_ ” Rosa-Marie chirped, hugging his neck. Just seeing her brother again after weeks had the little girl’s attention. Curse words and language lessons didn't interest her. Daniella, off to the side, snorted behind a hand. The older girl received a cuff and shake of the head from her mother for the action.

“ _Alright. Now,_ ” he stood back up, slapping his hands against his thighs with a brilliant smile. “ _Who wants their present?_ ” Two sets of eyes lite up. Rosa jumped up and down and he placed a hand on her head with a finger to quiet her excited shouting. “ _First, mama don't be mad._ ”

“ _What did you do?_ ” Frieda eyes him and his shifty grin.

“ _Spent more than I should have,_ ” Gabriel replied, unbuckling the ivory inlaid revolvers from around his waist, holding the belt out to Daniella. Her fingers reached out, touching the leather and glanced at her mother - silently asking for permission.

“ _Go ahead. I don't suppose you can take those back and get money?_ ” Freida let out a long suffering sigh.

“ _No,_ ” he said and dropped the belt and holsters in Daniella’s hands. She quickly strapped the guns to her waist, adjusting the belt yet it still slide. It had been for a much larger man so Gabriel wasn't surprised. “ _I'll punch a few holes in the belt. Guess I got the wrong size._ ”

Frieda raised a brow at that. He waved it off. Another lie he told his family. He would be six feet under and long gone and the priest’s priest’s priest would still be forgiving his sins. But it made them happy. He did it for them: three smiling faces who didn't have to bear the weight he gladly shouldered.

“ _Now for you,_ ” Gabriel scooped Rosa up, balancing her against his chest. “ _Cover your eyes._ ” The little girl did so, a thousand watt crooked smile lighting her face. They all trampled outside. Daniella grinned when she caught sight of the mare. Frieda just sighed the sound of a mother who had long given up corralling a rebellious yet well meaning child. “ _Open them._ ”

Rosa bounced in his arms. Gabriel walked her to the mare, introducing them. The horse’s chestnut ears twisted in curiosity before leaning forward, lips pulled back to sniff at Rosa. The little girl giggled at the hot breath, petting the snap on the mare’s nose with surprisingly soft touches.

“ _She's yours. Now let me unsaddle her and go think of a name._ ” Gabriel put the little girl down. Rosa stayed there, touching the horse’s side and starting in on unbuckling the saddle. Her tiny hands pushed at Gabriel’s thigh. The little girl made an annoyed noise, looking up at her brother until he got the hint. “ _Alright alright._ ” He held his hands up and backed up in surrender. Daniella swooped in, assisting Rosa in unsaddling and brushing down the mare.

“ _She's a beautiful animal. So we'll trained Where did you find her?_ ” Frieda came up beside him, eyes studying his face.

“ _Estate sell. Old military officer and his family selling what they could to make ends meet. She was headed to the slaughter house or railroad._ ” Gabriel spun the tale with half truths. His mother took the explanation and leaned over, hugging him tightly. He returned the gesture, the woman's head resting just under his chin. She had shrunk. Life without him around was taking its toll on her aging joints. Gabriel felt guilty not for the first time.

“ _Thank you Gabriel._ ” Fresh tears twinkled in her eyes. She wiped them away before he could comment.

“ _I didn't forget about you mama,_ ” he produced a leather pouch, handcrafted and decorated with tiny colorful beads. The jingle from inside told Frieda the contents be for she opened it.

“ _Gabriel this is too much._ ” She lowered her voice, glancing to make sure his sisters were still preoccupied. _“This is half a year Gabriel. I can't take this._ ”

“ _Yes you can. I don't need it. Please mama._ ” He shoved the pouch back into her hands, refusing to accept it. “ _Now tell me where this helpful stranger is so I can thank him for not running off with my sister._ ”

Frieda rolled her eyes at the joke. She patted his arm, jerking her head towards the house. “He is at the well fixing the wall. Daniella should be helping but now that you're here,” her wizened eyes twitched with mischief, accented by unshed tears. “ _You can help the poor fella out. I don't think he’s seen a farm his whole life but he doesn't complain and he eats my cooking so I hope I can keep him around._ ”

“ _I'll kill the man who insults your cooking,_ ” Gabriel said, already moving to skirt the house. The well was housed a little ways back, closer to the cattle pen. He could see it from where he stood but this mysterious stranger wasn't in sight. “ _I'll help the man. I'm sure you've run him ragged._ ”

“ _Gabriel. Don't say such things about your mother!_ ” Frieda feigned indignant, holding a hand to her chest.

“ _Love you too,_ ” he bent down, kissed her cheeks before making his way to the well. A stone came flying out of the hole. Along with a barely audible curse. Gabriel hooked his hands around his belt, tugging his hat down to better shield from the sun. The first sight of the stranger was a suntanned arm tossing another broken stone up and out of the ten foot hole. Gabriel stood, stance relaxed and leaning against the remaining wall. He switched back to English, unsure if this stranger would even recognize his natural tongue. “Mama is quite the taskmaster. I hope she isn't working you too hard. Need a hand?” Gabriel extended his arm, holding it out for the stranger still half concealed in the hole to take.

When the calloused hand and hard muscles arm appeared, Gabriel hoisted, gripping the forearm of the man firmly and planting his feet. Blond hair and blues stared back at him. Both belonging to a face that Gabriel couldn't forget it he tried. Morrison. God was laughing at him. They simply stared, Gabriel's hands the only thing keeping the lawman from tumbling back into the soggy well.

“You're fucking kidding me,” Gabriel finally breathed, feeling Morrison's hands tightened around his.

“Miss me?” The single most infuriating grin smeared across the man's face and Gabriel furrowed his brow.

“Like a kick in the damn knee,” he growled, releasing his grip and stepping back with a shove to the lawman’s shoulder with a boot. Arms flailed out, Morrison cried as his backside smacked against the bottom of the well. The heavy splash a sure sign the man was soaked through. “Fucking _pendejo_ stay down there.”

Gabriel stormed back to the house, adjusting his posture on the way and all smiles and cheer when he returned to the company of his mother and sisters. The lawman’s indignant string of curses trailed after the outlaw.

\-----

Jack sat at the bottom of the well. His throat was sore from.excessive screaming. His pants were soaked through. The heat from the afternoon desert chased away with the chill of cold water and damp earth. His world was currently encompassed in a lopsided circle of lumpy dirt. When he looked up there was the sun and a handful of clouds. No scowling, irate, handsome face staring down at him in disbelief and silence. This wasn't the scenario in his mind at night when Jack harbored less than respectable thoughts concerning the rugged, broad shouldered outlaw.

“Miss me?” Jack spat, arms draped over his bent knees. He slapped his palm against the water, splashing his face and growling at his own actions. “That's the best you could come up with?” The lawman fell back, bare skin hit the dirt wall. He was covered in enough mud and muck a little more didn't matter. His hair was sticking to his head in thick clumps and his teeth already ground against grit; a little more mud didn't matter. It was the perfectly ironic situation.

“Fool. You're a goddamn fool Jack Morrison.” Eyes drifted closed, he focused on breathing. In and out. Measured and deep, filling his lungs with the stifling air of the well. He reveled in the claustrophobic atmosphere of the space; it settled him, grounded his psyche. Stiff, bruised fingers relaxed from the painful fists he’d been holding them in and Jack steeled himself. It took a force of will but the lawman fished out the remainder of the stones. When the last one landed against the pile, Jack hoisted himself up. Rubbing his shoulders and cracking his neck, he had the wall rebuilt by sundown. Without access to any proper mortar he improvised using clay. Given time and a few good hot days and the well would be good - definitely not new but useable. Jack smirked, chest puffed with a swell of pride. The brief moment of completion chased away the slew of disturbing thoughts filling his head.

He scrubbed off best he could, careful to draw buckets from the non-damaged side of the well. He wasn't squeaky clean but the majority of the muck was gone. Dirt still hide under his nails and he dug a clump out of his right ear, flicking it away.

Gabriel Reyes not once came back out to the well.

Jack slung the shirt around his shoulders, staring at the clothing as the realization it probably belonged to the outlaw crashed down on him. Caught in the rolling tides of anger, frustration and defeat, the lawman smashed his hat onto dripping blond hair to stalk towards the house.

The sounds of familial conversation escaped through cracks in.the door. Jack stopped, standing outside the sole barrier, listening. The high pitched laughter of the young Rosa the most prominent noise. The lawman closed his eyes, drawn back to a time on a ranch long gone. His own family sharing this experience and creating memories; memories were all that he held onto now. It couldn't be jealousy he reprimanded himself but there it was - a clenching, tight heat in his chest accompanied by the pain in his jaw. The noise of his teeth grinding together drowned out the sincere laughter from the little girl.  
  
Jack turned from the door, an intruder who had no place in this scenario. His job be damned that night. The horse pen near the house was his destination. A familiar face stared back at him. The mare trotted over with a snort to his call. Her velvety nose bumped into his hands and Jack scratched at the chestnut’s cheeks. His forehead rested on her frock until she bobbed her head, nipping at Jack's fingers searching for treats. He had none. Coming to this conclusions the mare shook away, turning and leaving him there with hands hanging over the fence, shirt open and blatantly ignoring the growing chill from the combination of wet clothes and the fierce desert night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Pendejo. (Idiot - vulgar.)  
> Idiotá. (Idiot - not vulgar.)  
> Hijo de puta! (Son of a bitch.)  
> Mierda (Shit.)  
> Estas vivo? (Are you alive?)  
> Donde esta tu caballo? (Where is your horse?)  
> No creo que nos entiende. (I don't think he understands us.)  
> Güero loco! (Crazy white man.)  
> Ponlo en el caballo. (Get him on the horse.)  
> No lo vamos ah llevar para tras a la casa! (We aren't taking him back to the house!)  
> Si. Vamos. (Yes. We are.)  
> Escúchame bien, ponlo arriba del caballo. (Now listen and get him on the horse.)  
> Gringo estúpido. (Stupid white bastard.)  
> No digas groserías. (Watch your mouth.)  
> Tu eres un güero loco… (You're a crazy white man…)  
> Obvió. (Obviously - slang.)
> 
> This is one of two piece I've entered into the Overwatch Big Bang. This will posted in two parts due to its length.
> 
> Can always find me on Tumblr or Twitter at: captainxcorgi!  
> Kudos are appreciated! Comments are adored and always replied to!


	2. Among the Willows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This half is the reason for the rating. Check the added tags before continuing.
> 
> Note: There is an extensive Spanish conversation in this piece but to make it easier on the readers I did not have it translated. Instead it is in italics and just assume they are speaking Spanish and not English.

“She's mine,” the crunch of boots on gravel alerted him before the voice did. That it was the quiet Rosa surprised him. Jack turned his head, looking down at the child. Her hands clasped against the chest, swaying back and forth before making cooing noises. The mare's ears perked up. The animal returned to the fence, nose bent forward to sniff at the little girl's extended hand, blowing a puff of air out that rumbled both Rosa’s dress and hair.

“She is a beautiful animal. You trained her well,” Jack reached out, patting the mare's neck until she rippled her skin, shaking her mane.

“Gabbie bought her for me,” Rosa corrected with all the huff of an indignant six year old.

“My apologies. I thought perhaps with you being such a talented rider you had trained her.” Jack's hand came away from the horse, the animal in question nibbling at the edge of the little girl's dress in search of a treat. Rosa gave the lawman the best adult scowl she could muster. He laughed in response and only depended the girl's expression.

“No. And you can't have her,” Rosa bumped a fist against his thigh to emphasize her point.

“I wouldn't dare take such a fine beast from such a pretty lady.” He held a hand to his chest in mock offense, rubbing the spot where her tiny fist landed in insincere pain.

“Good. Because I already named her so she's mine.”

“That seems fair. What did you name her?” Jack shifted back, arms crossed and braces over the fence. The little girl mimicked his stance, her head resting on her folded arms.

“ _Cuca_ ,” Rosa replied with a decisive nod.

Jack blinked, looked down then back at the animal in question and swung his gaze back to the little girl. Really? He sighed. It was more creative than the military name the horse had been given.

“Mama wanted you to come back inside. It’s time to eat.” Rosa peeped, twirled on her heel and bounded back into the house. Jack cast his gaze after her. Gabriel stood in the doorway, stepping aside to let the little girl pass and playfully ruffling her pigtails. The lawman sighed again, head hanging down, rubbing his palms across his eyes with a soft groan. Of course the man he had been sent to hunt had a family. Not any family but one that needed a man around the house and one that had saved Jack's life.

It wasn't the first time the thought of abandoning his job crossed Jack's mind. He had never caught up to Reyes. The outlaw had ditched him. Any number of excuses to delay the manhunt a day or two longer; to give the man that much more time caring and providing for his family.

“ _Cabrón_ you coming inside or sleeping with the animals?” Despite a teasing tone, the hostility underlying those words stiffened Jack's spine.

“I'll sleep out here.” Jack bit back.

“No,” he heard the approach a second before the rough hand jerked at his shoulder. His back slammed against the beam of the fence eliciting a surprised gasp. Jack narrowed his eyes, hands immediately up and swinging, aimed for cheek, chest, neck, anything within reach. The outlaw wrangled one fist down yet the other connected. Jack allowed the briefest smirk at the satisfying sound of his knuckles bashed against Reyes’ side. Drawing back for another blow Jack watched as the outlaw caught the swing mid flight, effectively pinning the lawman between an unforgiving fence (Jack’d built the damn thing it better be sturdy) and unwavering body.

“Listen here. This is my mother's house. It is her good will in saving your sorry white ass from becoming a coyote's next meal that you're alive. You will go into that house and show her the respect she fucking deserves. Your beef with me stays at the door.” Reyes’ grip tightened. Jack felt his breath hitch the barest amount, too close to a source of constant confusion and his body throwing half a million mixed signals. The hot breath caressing his cheeks did not help. “Do you understand?”

“Crystal,” Jack nodded. In the same breath his knee snatched up aimed for the part of Reyes that the outlaw affected the most in Jack. The defiant knee was caught between Reyes’ thighs, held there as the man growled a warning.

“Don’t.” Reyes leaned forward, a hair’s breadth away like a tender lover, whispering the next words. “I won’t hesitate to shoot you dead lawman. What’s this? Morrison you are just full of all kinds of surprises.” The outlaw’s knee brushed against the not so subtle protrusion from below Jack’s beltline. The lawman stiffened, back ramrod straight, teeth bared at the suggestive words.

With a derisive laugh, Reyes released his hold and turned away, hands shoved into the pockets of his pants, walking back to the house. Jack watched him leave, watched those broad shoulders shake with barely repressed laughter and watched the way those loose trousers hugged the outlaw’s form. A curse blew out of his lips, hands open and closed in fists, working to settle his frayed nerves. Sleeping in the same room as his enemy wasn’t how Jack wanted to spend his night. He was given no other choice. At least the three women didn’t snore. Rubbing at the back of his neck, snickering at the absurd thought, Jack wondered how hard he could kick Reyes if it turned out the man snored.

\-----

Three days and Jack was no longer needed at the ranch. Frieda was gentle about informing him his repayment was done. He received the brunt news from Daniella with a basket shoved in his arms and pointed a hand to the freshly repaired fence line.

Reyes was the one to save him from wandering the desert lost again. The outlaw, with a wry smirk, offered to escort the poor white boy to the nearest town the next day. It was too late to start off today. They would spend the night at the ranch, set out first thing in the morning. Minor chores were finished; a new calf delivered, fresh mortar applied to the well, and Rosa given a ride around on _Cuca_. Jack still smiled at the name. He couldn't separate the little girl from the animal now. The mare was in good hands.

Evening came and dinner was an affair. Reyes spinning tales for his siblings about the cattle drive he’d returned from. Daniella rolled her eyes at the claims of her brother wrestling a raging bull to the ground to save his horse but Rosa was enraptured, hanging on every word. The little girl hugged a disfigured well loved stuffed pig tight to her chest. The table was cleared and Frieda put the girls to bed. Left with an awkward silence, both men were hustled out of the house with a bottle of whiskey between them. Frieda left the instructions to talk, man bonding she called it and said she would check on them once the house was cleaned.

Jack leaned against the fence, searching the skyline and the fading sunlight. The warm touch of the whiskey bottle pressed into his arm, Reyes raising a brow until the lawman took the drink. The cork bounced between the outlaw’s calloused hands, deep brown eyes focused on Jack’s reaction.

“Thank you,” he nodded, tilting the bottle back, savoring the burn of the liquor running across the back of his throat.

The noise of nonchalance he received in return made Jack chuckle. A brow shot up to Reyes’ hairline, the dark curls quick to engulf the action.

“Pardon,” Jack waved his free hand.

“Don’t be.” Reyes snorted, taking the bottle. Out of the corner of his eyes Jack watched the press of the outlaw’s lips to the opening, the way the man cradled the glass container, and his mind wandered to less than saintly thoughts. The collar on his shirt was too tight suddenly. Jack reached up, loosening the top buttons, focused on the horizon to calm himself. This was the first conversation that hadn’t ended with one of them on the verge of beating the tar out of the other. He was going to outright ruin it by being ridiculous.

“Jack.”

“Hm?”

“Jack Morrison. Our first meeting wasn’t exactly hospitable,” the bottle was passed back and the outlaw seemed to consider the words.

“Nope. Still haven’t heard of you.” Reyes flashed his teeth in a cheshire grin.

“Fair enough. Haven’t brought in the infamous Gabriel Reyes yet,” Jack returned the smirk, taking another drink of the whiskey. His teeth clattered against the glass bottle neck when a broad hand slapped against his back. Coughing, he glared at the other man’s smarmy smirk.

“And you won’t _cabrón_. You’ll have to just hunt down some other poor sap for your fame.” Reyes snatched the bottle away. Pressed to his lips, perhaps teasing the lawman by drinking slowly or creasing his mouth around the neck suggestively Jack wasn’t sure but the gulp the blond let out was audible.

“Not going to happen.” Jack straightened, strengthening his stance, challenging the other man by looking down his nose - a smug air of superiority cascading off him with the intention of rankling, shaking up Reyes. “Out of respect for your mother though I’ll give you a few days head start.”

“Head start? Aren’t you mighty full of yourself?” Reyes chortled, the sound deep from his chest and echoing through the descending night. Jack found himself joining in with subdued chuckles. The outlaw had a pleasant laugh. Jack wanted to drown in the sound.

“Maybe.” He shrugged, mirth still slipping free.

“Just maybe? That bounty on my head would set you up pretty nicely.” Reyes side eyed him. Jack watched the man take another drink, a drop slipped free, tickling the edges of the hair across the outlaw’s jaw. A tongue darted out, licking up the spill quick enough. The damage was done. Jack knew he was caught when the distinct sound of a throat being cleared jerked his eyes away from the outlaw’s lips. Too late to hide now what he’d been staring at. “A payday like that. Set a man up for the rest of his life. Wouldn’t need to work another day hunting scum like me.”

Reyes leaned in close, handing back the whiskey, dropping the bottle in Jack’s itchy hands. Calloused fingers drew back, catching on the open lapel of the borrowed shirt and the lawman felt his breath hitch at the contact. The alcohol glass hung limp in his grasp.

“A head start would give others time to claim my head,” Reyes’ hand in his shirt tightened, the distance closed. Jack tensed, prepared for the worst; a fist or lips either would kill him.

“Maybe but you’ve evaded capture this long, what’s a few more days?” Jack pressed into the fence, the bottle held up as a barrier. The outlaw pushed the glass away.

“Indeed. But you're a selfish man.” Reyes breath was hot against his skin. The shiver wasn't fear. That alone scared Jack enough to blink, look down, away, anywhere but to meet those soulful brown eyes. “You’ve hunted me for months.”

“Yes.” Jack felt the goosebumps forming along his neck. His free hand searched for purchase on the rough fence beams. The other was hopelessly tightening around the neck of the whiskey bottle.

“Selfish men take what they want,” the calloused hand that grabbed Jack's face was gentle but firm. It forced him to acknowledge the other man. “How selfish of a man are you Jack?”

 _Very!_ His mind screamed. His body reacted instead. A breath passed and he surged forward, closed the distance. The contact was lustful, needy and a mess. Teeth clashed and lips slipped against each other but Jack felt the air jackknifed out of his lungs. Long nights on the lonely road with only a wanted poster for company were eclipsed by this one instance. All the dirty thoughts and half-baked fantasies didn't compare. Jack's hands itched for further contact; to wring themselves through those fleece curls, to feel the play of muscle under Reyes taunt skin, to hear things that would get them both chased out of town with pitchforks and torches.

Jack felt the soft moan escape. He let the sound caress his throat. The taste of the whiskey they shared melded into an intoxicating mix of alcohol and the natural spice of the outlaw. Hints of cinnamon exchanged between them, there was no chaste contact but heat and fire. Reyes’ lips were chapped, slightly dried from working in the desert sun. Jack knew he could drown in that one detail.

Working in the inhospitable land, given what Jack knew of the man, Reyes facial hair was surprisingly soft, a tender brush against his face. It didn't itch like his stubble often did but with every movement of their lips, those soft strands moved against his own skin. The sensuous waves of shivers crawled up Jack's spine like a lover's touch. A soft hint of well oiled leather and sun baked clay was released with their every movement. It was barely there, mixing with the heady scent of whiskey, but it defined the outlaw; the perfect balance of a dangerous high and false safety.

It was over too soon, Reyes teeth flashed in the darkness and the outlaw grabbed the whiskey bottle, gulping it down shot after shot. At the end of it he licked what remained away, lips creased as the suggestive action didn't go unnoticed.

“A selfish man indeed!” The outlaw tossed his head back, braced against the fence with that throbbing bass laugh echoing in the night. “ _Cabrón_ it is a pity you're a lawman. I maybe could’ve liked you.” Reyes accented the tease with a wink and shoved the bottle back into Jack's chest. “Pick your jaw up. You're catching flies.”

Jack glared, torn between roaring in contempt and grabbing the outlaw, crushed against him, finishing what they’d started. The opportunity vanished with the whiskey poured down his throat, the blond finished the bottle just to keep his hands and mind occupied. He couldn't form a coherent sentence and watched Reyes walk away like every night this week; same damnably broad shoulders and taunting pull of those trousers. He glanced away, pushed off the fence and turned the corner of the house to stand behind the building. Jack stared at the sky, darkened now with night and blanketed in stars. The tinkle on his lips a pleasant memory chased away under the torment of a decision he would need to make come morning; exposing Reyes to his family or walking away, giving the man the head start he would need to escape the law a little longer.

\-----

Frieda emerged from the house, the door closing quiet behind her. In her hands something was clutched tight. The hunch to her form, an invisible burden pressing down on the woman's form. Gabriel stopped mid stride. His mother’s was hand was faster than any draw he’d seen. The echo of skin on skin sharp in the night and he stepped back, staring down at the woman.

“ _How many lies have you told? How many secrets have you kept? My son the war hero, the provider, the strong man. How many people have you hurt Gabriel? How many innocent men have you killed?_ ” Frieda didn't pound her fists or lash out after the initial slap. Instead the woman was calm, her voice contained in a measured, composed cadence as she spoke in clipped sentences. Gabriel shrunk under his mother's verbal assault. When she was done her son straightened, steadied his stance and finally touched his face where his mother had struck him.

“ _I did want needed to be done. The ranch needed money and I made it._ ” He gritted his teeth, fists clenched.

“ _No. Gabriel how long have you done this?_ ” She stood, arms crossed, the crumpled paper gripped tight against her chest. Gabriel didn't need to see the front to know what the paper was. How his mother had come into possession of his wanted poster wasn't a mystery; stolen off the lawman when she and his sisters picked up the delirious blond. “ _Gabriel I am a patient woman but I expect an explanation._ ”

“ _Since the war ended. Cattle drives only paid so much and the ranch needed more than I could make_.” Gabriel began, defensive. Part of him wanted to shrink, beg forgiveness and be that little boy again who only wanted to please yet the other part was an independent man returned from a war, fighting against the injustice of the lawless lands and the single hardest emotion a mother could ever give. Disappointment.

“ _How many men did you kill?_ ” Frieda reached out, the poster in her hand, the bounty and his crimes mapped for his eyes.

“ _I only shot in self defense. I never killed unless I had no other choice._ ” Gabriel retorted. His head jerked to the side again, Frieda’s hand connecting with his other cheek. He tasted blood.

“ _And those men you killed? Did you give them a choice? You were robbing them Gabriel. What choice did you give them but to shoot?_ ” Her voice pitched upwards at the end, the poster shaking in her hand, finally pressed against his chest. The paper dropped, floated to the ground between them. His own brutal mug stared into the sky.

“ _None._ ” He responded, a harsh whisper and admittance. Gabriel looked down, boot dug into the poster, hiding his transgressions under the worn sole.

“ _You have skills Gabriel. You’ve your father’s hand for building. Why not take an honest job?_ ” She wasn't hysterical but the hurt and betrayal and suffering he caused her were etched in every word.

“ _It was the quickest way to get the money. What I took either came home or I left with another ranch. I only wanted to correct the corruption the war left behind._ ” Gabriel tongued the cut in his cheek, the copper taste coated his mouth and he swallowed it back.

“ _You aren't the law. You do not get to decide the rules. Even if they are unfair or wrong there are ways to fight them that don't involve violence_ ,” the beginnings of tears formed at the corners of his mother's eyes. He reached out, intent to wipe away the consequences of his actions but his hand was pushed away.

“ _Mother-_ ” Her finger in the air stopped his answer.

“ _What of the families of those men you killed? Who will provide for them now that you've taken their fathers? Their brothers?_ _Imagine your sisters without a brother. They've lost two fathers and you would ask them to lose another by your actions._ ” Frieda spoke like she was reading a sentence, quiet, steady, broken yet maintained eye contact, watching as each word worked out the guilt buried under Gabriel’s hard exterior.

“ _What do you want to hear then? What would you have me do mother?_ ” He slashed a hand through the air, near shouting and panting with exertion. The pent up emotion and turmoil he battled overflowing as each of his mother’s words cut him down. She was visibly disappointed, frightened, and resigned and he felt smothered under it all.

“ _The right thing Gabriel._ ” Frieda grabbed his face, staring into deep brown so like her own. He stood stock still, waiting for another slap or assault. “ _I am your mother. I will always love and want what's right for you but what you have done you must answer for. The families of those men you killed, even if your intentions were good, didn't not deserve the pain you've visited on them._ ”

His eyes closed, grabbed her thin wrists (the skin slowly earning the paper thin texture of age) and tugged against them. Frieda did not resist. Gabriel enveloped her, buried his face into the gray peppered braid allowing tears of frustration and resignation to escape. She cooed, softly, gentle hands running circles around his back.

“ _Gabriel.”_ Breaking the embrace she held his face, wiped the streaks and kissed his nose like she did when he was a petulant toddler. “ _When you leave tomorrow I trust you to do what needs to be done. Know that I love you and, even though I don't agree with your choices, I understand your intentions. You have to answer for your actions._ ” Frieda patted his cheek before turning and entering the house. The door remained open, inviting, the offer of a warm bed and family comfort as his final night a free man.

If he ran he couldn't return. Giving himself to the law was a death sentence. The words of his mother replayed again and again. A gallipoli of faces fading, melding together. The bank teller that tried to play hero and earned a shotgun spray to his brain. The two ex-soldiers rushing in, dead before they crossed the threshold and too late he spotted the same pressed uniform he once wore. The young boy who stood over his father's body, eyes wide, holding a revolver too big for his uncoordinated hands. The star shaped bullet wound on his hip where the kid’s shot landed ached in reminder. There were others. Many others but they bled together to a point he could cloister them off like faded memories in the back of mind. He convinced himself of the justice in his actions and believed that hollow veneer

Now they surged forward, crying their demand for rectification and he was forced to confront it. The families his actions tore apart. The funerals he would never attend. The names he would never know. The widows left in the path of his own moral code. His actions had been selfless to a battered mind and the consequences were ignored as a result. They reminded him now, on his family farm with the mocking sneer of his own wanted poster staring back.

Gabriel braced himself against the wall of the homestead, fingers digging into the sun dried bricks until they bled. Tears left trails through the dust on his face. The desire to yell and curse the heavens wrapped around his chest. The noise didn't pass his throat, instead constricting and forced him to his knees, fists pounded into the ground. Crimson smears from his broken nails splattered the dirt. Gabriel's mouth shouted in silence, his mouth open but only a choking noise escaped. The reaction was a curious huff from the horses.

Gabriel wasn't certain when but he forced himself to his feet. With deep breaths, he wiped the bloodied hand across his dark pants and entered the house. First with Rosa then Daniella he placed a gentle touch to their slumbering foreheads before facing Frieda. She repeated the action of a mother saying good night, a simple kiss to his cheek. With that he settled into the bedroll laid out in the middle of the room, his back to the door. The lawman entered a moment later, door shut quiet behind the blond and took up the other blanket. Gabriel waited until the steady breath of dreams came from all those in the house, allowing his body to succumb to its own tiredness.

\-----

The next morning Jack was saddling the horses, mindful to keep his sight anywhere but on the familial scene. The girls didn't know their brother’s transgressions. They embraced him, Rosa offering a pack with meals for the trip while Daniella pointed a clear look of _take care of him_ in the lawman's direction.

Jack waved in return. The young woman snorted. She never had warmed up to him. His hands worked the cinch, securing it and ensuring it wasn't pinching any of the horse’s belly. He was still processing what Reyes had said to him that morning. The outlaw was turning himself over but no handcuffs and not a word of this until they were far from the homestead. Jack had eavesdropped the previous night, picked out a word or two here in the rapid Spanish. Not enough to get the whole conversation but he could put the pieces together.

Teeth yanked on his sleeve and drew his attention, Jack patted the velvety nose until it huffed, turning away. Rosa’s horse was staying here. He would miss the animal; putting those hours into training the mare to be magnificent steed she was wasn't something he wanted to give up but the light and love in the little girl’s eyes made the decision easy. He was taking their brother and replacing him with a horse and his revolvers. Daniella wore those proudly now. Jack found it harder to part with the guns than the mare but it came down to easing his conscience by easing the blow as he delivered Reyes to the hangman’s noose. If the outlaw was lucky he might get firing squad instead, at least the execution was quicker than dangling, choking on spit and thrashing if the drop didn't break his neck.

He dismissed the image, swinging into the saddle and grabbed the reins of the other mount. With his heels he guides the two horses to the family quietly encouraging Reyes to finish his farewells. The disgruntled expression from the teenager unsettled Jack's chest. The lack of knowledge of her brother’s fate caused him to turn towards Frieda. Reyes swung into the saddle, tossing the packs across his saddle horn and shoving the shotgun into its holster. Jack adjusted the rifle near his leg, turning the head of his grey mount when there was a tug at his pants. Frieda motioned for his ears. Jack leaned down.

“Take care of my boy. And yourself.” She touched his cheek, tears formed in the corners of her eyes before drawing back.

“I will ma’am.” Jack bobbed his hat, sat up and kicked the horse into an easy to maintain trot. The blond watched Reyes hesitate before following. The man didn't look back, drawing even with the lawman and Jack offered a sincere smile. What else received in return was a scoff and Reyes urging his horse into a gallop. Jack followed. The homestead quickly disappeared behind their dust trail.

They traveled in silence. The contact from the previous night replayed once in Jack's mind. It was chased away under the knowledge of what the end of this ride entailed. They passed by the nearest town in the evening. Camp was set up miles outside a crossroads. Horses settled down, brushed and saddles removed. Bedrolls spread out, a dinner of canned food set to cook in a travel kettle and guns cleaned meticulously. Jack sat across the fire, food half eaten by his foot and the rifle set cross his lap. His summer sky eyes watched the quiet, tender care Reyes gave the shotgun, disassembling and rebuilding the weapon with practice. The cleaning cloth and oils stored back into a saddle bag, the outlaw’s mechanical in their movements, Jack cleared his throat. The look that action garnered was a mix of annoyance and mild curiosity.

“Why’d you do it?” He asked, fingers drummed against the metal of the rifle.

“Do what?” Reyes didn't look up. Jack grunted. Of course the man wouldn't answer right away. When Reyes continued the lawman was caught off guard, a sordid reproach dying on his tongue. “Steal? Because I had to. Kill? Again because I had to. The other night? Dead men tell no tales so that secret is safe with me.” Reyes thumbed his nose at his joke.

Jack hand clenched, digging into the material of his trousers, fighting down the urge to rise to the goading. He wanted to understand, to know the man that had been the cause of immense financial and moral injury the past few years. Gabriel Reyes was caught. He had told Jack as much. He was willingly handing himself over and Jack was no fool. It had something to do with that conversation he shouldn't have heard. But he did and now Jack needed to know. To satisfy his own curiosity? Maybe. To question his own morality? Most likely. The part that irked Jack and kept him up most nights was a simple one; his own moral compass and Reyes… Reyes was the one to make him re-examine the direction that arrow pointed. How bad was a man who committed crimes yet his intention, his purpose was good in the end? Reyes would be dead soon and Jack was the coward who couldn't live without knowing because not knowing would drive him insane.

“You know damned well what I meant.” Jack snapped. His fists clenched to the point of pain. The rifle fell off his lap, landed close to the fire, the flames playing off the metal’s reflection.

“I did it because it seemed the only way at the time. After that I was addicted to the easy money and the happiness it brought my family.” Reyes’ gaze drifted down to the rifle, the shotgun balanced by his side, the solid butt of the weapon ground into the dirt. “Is that what you want to hear Jack?”

“No.” It was what he wanted to hear but the motivation questioned his thoughts and Jack rallied against that intrusion. “Killing one man I can understand if you stopped because you may not have a taste for it but you shot again. And again. How can you smile for your family and turn around to murder a man in cold blood?”

“I shot in self defense. Never had to be a death. Those men chose their fate.” Reyes hands shifted on the shotgun and Jack straightened, prepared to grab his rifle if the outlaw moved. The horses shuffled behind them in the interim. “You've shot that rifle before. Ever killed a bounty who wouldn't come quietly?”

“Yes.”

“And why did you shoot?”

“Wanted posters say dead or alive for a reason.” Jack replied.

“Self defense.” Reyes corrected and waved a hand, shifted, the shotgun now rested parallel to his legs. The outlaw’s boots tapped together, the noise of a point proven.

“There is a diff-”

“A difference? Death is death. You can't take a bullet back. Those outlaws are dead as sure as the guards I've shot.” Reyes cut him off. The man's hat was tugged forward to hit the ground in a huff. “Did you fight in the war Jack?”

“Yes.” He was defensive, miffed at the interruption.

“You killed men then.” It wasn't a question. Reyes held his gaze even with Jack's. The fire crackled between them. Jack adjusted his back, a sudden stifling heat crawling up his back; the feeling of an interrogation growing in the space of the camp.

“I fought for my ideals.”

“You killed for a purpose.” The outlaw leaned to the side, balancing his head on a palm. “You shot before the soldier on the other end of battlefield could bust open that head of yours.” Reyes suddenly stood, stretched, cracked his back but continued speaking. Jack's hands itched for his rifle, watching the other's movements while his mind was a distracted, questioning muddle. “Sounds like self defense to me.”

“It was a war. Men fought and died for their ideals. That is not self defense. That is a flimsy excuse.” Jack snapped back, stopping the tirade Reyes descended into. The words hung between them and the outlaw blinked before cupping his face, shaking his head to suppress a laugh that still bobbed his shoulders.

“Is it Jack? Or is it easier to justify killing a man because in your pretty head you were just ‘following orders’?” The outlaw said, the hint of danger in his voice carrying passed the echoes of amusement. “It's not you pulling the trigger in war. You can hide behind the veneer of orders when you're putting a bullet in someone else’s son’s skull. Tell me, Jack, how what you do now is different than what you did then? A man is still dead. A family still has lost their father. Someone's boy is gone.” Reyes stopped, fist snatched up his hat, slammed it onto his head, took a breath and finished in a slow, subtle, dangerous draw. “You can't bring back the dead Jack, and if self defense is a flimsy excuse then I have every right to execute you where you stand. Same as you have the right to hang me from that noose you lawmen love so fucking much.”

Jack did not respond. It was not a stunned silence but an enraged quiet. Thunder rolled under his skin and the lawman got up. He kicked the ground, grabbed his rifle and stormed out into the night. The fire stayed in sight. Paces away, too many deep breaths and he hadn’t found his calm, Jack stopped, threw back his head and screamed. The worst part was that Reyes-Gabriel’s words made a certain amount of sense. It rattled the blond. He hoisted the rifle, checked the chamber, cocked and sighted down the barrel. He didn’t take the shot. Firing at nothing would be a waste. Shaking, the rifle fell to his side limp before he set it down and turned. It was ironic then that the only thing close at hand was a cactus; a reminder of his delusional state weeks ago, wandering, cursing the name of the man he now shared camp with. In a single motion his gloves hand slammed against a plant. He sucked in a breath, the prickles digging into the worn leather. He focused on the pain. Every punch was another stocattoe of the turmoil pent up inside.

He had fought for ideas he believed in. The war still haunted him. Being a lawman, bringing justice to the lawless areas was his means of redemption. Ghosts of kills haunted his sleep when the fighting stopped but the words, the idea that pulling the trigger was easier when someone else directed his bullet… Another fist into the cactus. He screamed, strained against his own body and thoughts. A sexual attraction he could handle. His morals questioned and that he considered the truth behind the words; the revelation of a world in colors other than black and white burned his chest. He wasn’t naive. He wasn’t stupid but foolishness and a choice to be blind was torn away with Gabriel’s words. Another punch. More stings to his fists yet he pounded the cactus. Juice began to leak across his gloves, dripped down, coated his arms and the lawman’s throat was soon raw. Slow and resistant but eventually the steam of his anger dissipated. The thoughts lingered.

He was out there an hour, maybe longer, he wasn’t sure but returning to camp found his rifle carelessly limp at this side, the fire a smolder and the outlaw asleep. The black stetson rested against Gabriel’s forehead, covered the upper part of the man’s face. No snores like every other night at the ranch. Just the silent rise and fall of the outlaw’s chest. Jack watched the man sleep feeling every bit the voyeur and memorized the face. It would be contorted and hanging from a noose soon enough; probably the first time the lawman would walk away from an execution.

\-----

Neither spoke of the argument from the night before. Heavier subjects hung in the air and were the cause of a tension that Jack couldn’t cut and kept Gabriel’s shoulders hunched forward. The horses picked up on the thunderstorm of emotions. Jack battled with his borrowed steed as the town crested the horizon, fighting to keep the gelding going forward as the animal skittered around, chomping at the bit. The outlaw’s animal wasn’t as bad given the state of the man’s arms. Gabriel had agreed to the restraints, iron handcuffs, and Jack’s offhanded comment about turning the tables had been received with an ironic laugh. The second horse was tied to Jack's saddle horn with a short rope.

Gabriel’s weapons had been stripped. The shotgun holster was moved to Jack’s saddle. Carrying the array of weapons the lawman felt like a walking arsenal but to keep with the facade then Gabriel couldn’t be carrying any guns. It felt wrong taking the shotgun from the man. Jack had seen the man clean the weapon with the tender precision of a practiced hand. Jack didn't know the story behind the weapon but the way Gabriel handled the shotgun told of a deep tale behind it.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky as wisps of clouds colored the otherwise pristine blue. Roughshod wooden buildings towered around them as they rode in. One look at the iron and the whispers of another outlaw brought in rippled through the populace. Jack gave the other man credit for not flinching when the off color comments started. The community wasn't out in force but the bystanders that were murmured and speculated about the nature of the criminal. One of them made the connect and from there it became a chorus of praise in Jack's direction for bringing such a notorious man to justice. It all left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Outside of the courthouse Jack dismounted, waited for Gabriel to slide off. The outlaw didn't stumble or stutter step when his feet hit the ground. Gabriel's head wasn't held high but he looked anyone in the eye and the majority turned away first. The sheriff stomped out, demanding an answer to the commotion and Jack was quick to supply an explanation.

“Marshall Jack Morrison, appointed peace keeper in California, Nevada and six other states. I'm turning in the outlaw Gabriel Reyes. I'll take my payment here and now if you please.” He tipped his hat in salute, the other gloved hand pushed the outlaw in question forward a step and earned a muttered curse in return. A deputy stepped down when the sheriff nodded. The grizzled persona the sheriff presented sized up the blond.

“Ain't ever heard of ya but if ya bringing in the big fish I ain't complaining. Name’s Bowes.” The sheriff held out a hand and Jack accepted.

“My payment?”

“Right,” Bowes nodded, turned and belted out towards the inside of the building. “George! Get the man his money!”

Another deputy grabbed the cuffs, intent to escort the outlaw into the jail. Gabriel didn’t move, just glared at the man. There was a tension in the air; palatable and that could be cut with a knife. Gabriel jerked the handcuffs out of the man’s hands. Half a dozen sets of hands went to weapons

“Grant a dead man one request?” The outlaw said despite the question.

“Fine. What is your request brownie?”

Gabriel turned, not answering, and stood squared up at Jack. The blond’s face asked the question his mouth didn’t. A breath later Jack stumbled backwards, teeth a little looser than they were and the taste of blood on his tongue. Gabriel shook his hand, knuckles showed cuts from the low blow and where Jack’s teeth had cut into the flesh. The sheriff and his men blinked then laughed.

“Should see your face pretty boy. Cold cocked right ‘cross the face!” One of the deputies snickered.

Jack growled, glaring at the smug grin across Gabriel’s face. Blood coagulated in the dirt after Jack spit out a glob of the mess and leveled his sights with those of his aggressor. Bowes placed a hand on Jack's shoulder, pointedly stopping any further confrontation and turned him around. Gabriel was led inside, the lanky man that had laughed at Jack's misfortune none too gently pushed the outlaw into the building; the man's chuckles could still be heard even from outside.

“Go get a drink and some ice for that,” Bowes tapped his own face to emphasize the point; a coin was pressed into Jack's chest and the sheriff directed him towards the saloon. “George will bring your bounty around. Tell Delilah to give ya the special and have a good time on me.” Bowes grinned, the gaps from missing teeth prominently displayed.

Jack nodded, rubbed his abused cheek and watched until Gabriel disappeared into the jail. There would be a trial but the process was a mere formality. The man who stole with good intentions was bound to pay for the crime and the law would have another body to hang from the noose. Gabriel's sardonic words replayed and Jack choked back a laugh at the ironic truth - lawman really did love their hangings.

He stayed the remainder of the day at the saloon, drank until drunk using a portion of the bounty, waved off the girls and hid himself in a room nursing a second bottle and a massive confliction. Gabriel's words and actions and intentions battled against Jack's personal convictions until the pressure behind his forehead found the blond throwing up the contents of his stomach. He missed the spittoon and threw a blanket over the mess. The owner could clean it up. Jack snarled, smashed the bottle against the wall and fell onto the bed. He passed out for the rest of the day and deep into the night. The next day there was a trial. It was a mockery just as he assumed it would be. Gabriel was guilty before he even stepped into the room.

Jack watched from the back, hat down over his face, fighting off a drum beat in his head and the pointed stare the outlaw passed him. Jack felt those deep brown eyes burrow into his soul. The judge asked for a plea. The answer drew gasps from the crowd crammed into the courthouse.

“What good is a defense when you've already decided the verdict?” The outlaw spat at the judge in contempt. The blow to the back Gabriel's head Jack physically felt, head ducked further down, breath sucked in; the outlaw was a scapegoat and a convenient means of misdirecting the public’s eye away from the crimes the law committed. This wasn't right. Law wasn't being served here. Law was being used to cover up the robbery of the homesteaders. His black and white world had cracked that night by the campfire. It shattered like a fine glass when Gabriel was sentenced to hang. As the outlaw was led from the courthouse, Jack looked away, ignored the push of the crowd and exited with a last glance at the empty podium.

\-----

The jail was connected to the backside of the courthouse. Wrapped around the east and south sides of the jail was a sturdy fence. Said pen housed a couple dozen heads of cattle ready for auction at the end of the week; bulls to be sold as breeding stock. The two guards on duty were regaled with Jack's story of how he had caught the infamous Reyes. How he had snuck up on Reyes while the man was asleep, stolen the man's guns and knocked him out.

Two hours later and one of the men was sleeping off a round of drinks at the saloon while the other had stumbled away with a cat. Jack's wallet still felt the burn and he shook his head, cleared away the slight haze of alcohol. Getting the deputies to the point of drunken stupor hadn't come without its drawbacks. That gave Jack the opportunity to maneuver his horse and Gabriel's into the pen. The cows shuffled in their sleepy state, glazed eyes gave the horses a curious glance and nothing more.

Three lengths of rope sat slung over the saddle. In a matter of minutes two ropes were tied off; one end to a drowsy bull and the other to the bars at the back of jailhouse.

“Blondie?” Jack stopped, the third rope hanging from his hands.

“Evening.” Jack peeked through the window, tipped his hat at the man on the other side.

“What are you doing _pendejo_?” Gabriel's fingers tapped the ropes around the bars, brow raised into the hem of his hat. A small smirk played across the man's face in the hazy lantern light.

“Practicing my rodeo skills.” Jack ducked down, heard the dry scoff while looping the last lasso around a rather meaty bull. He returned to the bars, testing the knots and pointedly ignored how close Gabriel was.

“You've been drinking.” Definitely wasn't a question.

“Sure have. For such a small town they have a surprising selection of whiskey.” Jack finally looked up, held the outlaw's gaze for a second then turned back to testing the ropes.

“Jack.” Gabriel's tone demanded attention.

“What?” He snapped. The mixture of annoyance and nerves set on end, wondering if he would be caught any second, the word came out as an almost squeak.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel asked again.

Jack sighed, shoulders hunched up in defiance and held the outlaw's brown eyes with his own.

“I'm breaking you out.” He huffed, stiffening at the chuckle the response received.

“You don't have the play hero _pendejo_. I knew what I was getting into. I've made my peace.” Gabriel sounded terribly nonchalant.

“I haven't. They're making you a spectacle. This wasn't the law I signed up to defend.” Jack grunted, not indignant but with a firmness of a man still working to convince himself of a new conviction. The plan was harebrained Jack knew but a look around the corner of the building say the shadow of a gallows already constructed. The image of Gabriel swinging from those wooden beams pushed the blond forward.

“Not so jaded anymore? I should push more lawmen down wells if it'll change their views too,” Gabriel's snort was sharp and harsh.

“This has nothing to do with the well.” Jack said. He moved away from the wall, grabbed the reins of both horses and veered them out of the way of the oncoming stampede. The shotgun was pulled from its saddle holster and balanced against Jack's shoulder. “Stand back.”

“Do you know if this is going to work?” Gabriel still moved as he was told, face disappearing from the bars and further into the cell.

“No idea.” Jack pulled himself into the saddle, moved both horses further to the side.

The bulls rustled, pushed against each other. The three that were lassoed kept Jack's attention. The shotgun braced against his shoulder, thighs keeping him balanced on top of his gelding, Jack fired across the heads of the cattle. It took a second but the cattle began surging forward against the fence, thousands of pounds of frightened animal pressed to escape the sudden noise. Jack fired a second shot, shouting and waved his arms. The crack of the wood and rope going taunt were muffled under the frantic pounding of hooves. Jack slide the shotgun back in its holster, kicked his horse and ride along the railing to encourage the cattle.

It wasn't enough pressure yet. The fence was bowing but hadn't broken. Jack pulled out the rifle, aimed at the lock and fired. The metal rattled but didn't break. The noise was already drawing shouts from the saloon. With a curse, Jack fired again at the lock and the metal flew off. The gate tore open under the press of the frantic cattle. Bulls clambered atop each other in a frenzy, stampeding out of the gate. Jack jerked his horse back, away from press of bodies. The ropes held, pulled taut against the straining shoulders of the three bulls. Jack held his breath. The shouts of the townspeople were coming from around the corner and, Jack feared, inside the jailhouse. There were two locked doors the deputy needed to unlock before getting to Gabriel.

“Damnit come on!” Jack waited, prayed this would work. The ropes strained. They were going to snap. In the space of a breath, Jack watched the bars strain and finally tear out. Brick and mortar and metal fell outwards under the feet of the cattle. A hole big enough for a man to crawl out appeared in the middle of the wall. Jack breathed again. More shouting from inside, the clang of a metal door being thrown open and Jack watched as Gabriel scrambled out of the hole. The distinct sound of a revolver echoed off the wall.

Jack pulled the horses alongside the fence. The pen was empty now, Gabriel vaulted the wood and hoisted himself into the saddle. Jack untied the reins from his saddle, threw them at the outlaw.

“You're a crazy son of a bitch!”

“I've heard worse!” Jack cackled, kicked his gelding into a gallop and followed the line of cattle rampaging across the open expanse of the midnight desert. Gabriel's horse pounded the ground beside him.

“I can't believe that worked.” Gabriel laughed, hunkered down over the saddle. Gun fire and the heated yells of the local law followed them. It would take them a few minutes to form a Posey and Jack counted on that. He herded the cattle back towards the town, the column taking a wide left before veering in the direction he wanted. Gabriel followed his lead. When it was certain the frightened animals were headed the right way, Jack turned his horse eastward. He didn't have to say anything but knew the was behind him.

They sat and, for a second, enjoyed the sight of the cattle running amok through the town's main street. The three bulls with ropes still attached trailed the column. The piece of the rubble followed the bulls, caught a wooden support beam and both men watched as the front porch of the general store collapsed on itself. Jack winced and Gabriel chuckled. Chaos would keep the law off their tail for a little while. “Well you're a wanted man now Morrison.” Gabriel clapped the shoulder closest to him and Jack just threw his head back, whole body shaking with the relieved hysteria of a doomed man. “Jack?”

“I'm fine.” Jack waved away the concern, turned his horse and urged the animal into a canter. Gabriel followed, drawing up alongside the blond.

“You're actually crazy.” Gabriel shook his head and kicked his horse into a gallop.

“I know.” Jack followed. The town disappeared behind them.

\-----

“It's around here,” Jack stood up in his stirrups with his neck craned for a better vantage point. His gelding’s head dipped down, browsing the underbrush. After two days crossing the desert and dry wastelands the greenery was a welcome change for the duo’s equine companions.

“You're first few days as a wanted man aren't going so good,” Gabriel leaned against the saddlehorn, arms loosely crossed at the wrist. The reins dangled from a relaxed grip. His lips twisted into a mocking grin. “ _Cabrón_ maybe you should’ve stayed on the other side of the law.”

“Look,” Jack turned in the saddle, finger pointed at the other man's chest. “There is a trapper’s cabin out here. I've used it before. The fella that says he built it let me stay the few times I've come this way.” He fell back, the worn leather creaked in protest and the gelding sidestepped at the sudden shift in weight.

“What unlucky fool were you chasing?” Gabriel asked.

“You.” Jack nudged his mount to start moving again. “One more mile-”

“Just admit you're lost.” Gabriel snorted behind him. The sharp stomp of the gelding's hoof against the ground had Jack jerk around. The other man held his hands up with a shrug and mischievous smile, both hands pointed down to the feisty mare. “She agrees.”

“I'm not lost.” Jack clicked his horse into a trot with a murmured retort. The gelding chuffed, turned against the reins and stomped again. Jack righted the animal quickly. The noises of the forest dominated. The crunch of hooves on twigs and the gentle rustle of leather and metal presided over the quiet of the inhabitants. A million tiny eyes curiously watched the four new creatures traipse through the trees. Jack bristled when the other man cleared his throat pointedly and still no cabin in sight. “Don't.”

“I didn't say anything,” Gabriel feigned innocence, the outlaw’s horse pulling up even with Jack’s. “Find a stream, setup camp, and track down a game trail for dinner. You don't even have to admit you're lost.”

“One more hill.” Jack faced forward, refusing to acknowledge the mocking grin he felt burrowing into his shoulder.

“Fine.” Gabriel shrugged.

They continued in silence. The bill in question was more a generous mound of dirt and grass littered with trees. None of that hide the wood cabin sitting just out of sight. Jack's exclamation of triumph echoed off the forest around them. Looking like a period painting the cabin was the right amount of put together and decrepit. Definitely lived in and recently vacated. No sight of the place currently playing house to any other travelers were evident. A good sign on Jack's mind. No people meant no questions to answer and it gave him another day to push the confliction over his own choices to the back of his mind.

“I'll eat my words,” Gabriel tipped the black stetson to the back of his head and let out a whistle. “You're not as half baked as you appear pretty boy.” A firm hand clasped against Jack's shoulder before Gabriel dismounted, swinging down and began walking towards the cabin. Jack followed quiet, removed the saddle from his mount and left the animal tied to the front hitching post. His boot kicked the door open, hands full between the saddle, bedroll and bags.

The interior showed signs of being recently vacated. Stored in the cabinets were a few cans of various provisions, dishes, the essentials for people passing through looking to use the cabin as shelter for a night. One bed was shoved into the corner and covered in a veritable mountain of quilts. A basin for washing sat on a hand carved table while a beaten tub sat near the door. The bare necessities. They settled on a bare bones meal of whatever was in the cans and some jerky Gabriel scarred up from one of the unlabeled containers on the table. The horses were bedded down, bridles removed and each animal given a helping of hay and rope to allow them space to graze. They bustled around the place, setting up for night and securing the door. Gabriel's shotgun was placed on the table and Jack's rifle butted up against the door. Both weapons within easy reach should something to bump in the night.

Night began to set by then. The crickets and other nocturnal inhabitants of the forest waking up, taking over their turn at ambient noise.

“You can have the bed,” Gabriel said, interrupted the companionable quiet.

“You sure?” Jack moved across the space, his hat slipped off and tossed to the nightstand. Next he loosened the top button of his shirt, easing the tension in his shoulders. The past few nights on the run they’d slept close. The first night saw Jack waking every hour, waiting for a shot in his back; from the posse chasing them or Gabriel himself. The mindset of distrust harbored from being a lawman still trapped even with his new life direction. Out in the open they were afforded space and could be near without being claustrophobic. Now, in this cabin, and with no open land to escape to Jack felt the suppressed memory of that night on the ranch with the whiskey and…

That was a memory often revisited but Jack didn't want the implications. He knew himself well enough to understand it was an emotion best kept beaten down. Since the break out Gabriel had neither hinted or given any indication that that night by the fence was nothing more than an outlaw trying to ruffle a lawman’s feathers. It had worked too well. Jack couldn't escape the tingle that remained even this time later. He buried his head in his hands, rubbed his fingers against his temples with a muffled groan.

“You alright there? Not having second thoughts now?” Gabriel's hand touched his shoulder. It was a comforting gesture and Jack brushed it off quickly.

“No. Not that. Just a lot to take in. To go from protecting the law to breaking it in ten different ways in one night…” Jack let the sentence hang, let his mouth run away so his mind couldn't catch up and blurt something he would regret.

“Hey.” Gabriel's hand returned to his shoulder and was followed up by the opposed clamping down too. Two hands on his shoulders and Jack reached up, shoved them off with a disgruntled noise. “Listen to me _cabrón_. I made peace with my decision. Still have. Hell yes I love living but if it is going to tear you up this bad and make you regret your choice then I'll leave your ass here. I'll go back to what I know best until the next gun happy deputy cages me. So either suck it up, you can't change it now, or I'm taking both horses and leaving you here like last time.” Gabriel stood close, his voice carried with the increased fervour to the words. “You'll still be a wanted man but at least I won't have to deal with your self doubt. That'll only get me killed.”

“It isn't that.” Jack's head hung down still, taking in the lecture and knew that what Gabriel said was correct. He couldn't go back. The moment those ropes had tightened around the jailhouse bars his life as a peacekeeper was gone. Sealed away in his past along with the soldier who only followed orders.

“What is it then? I'll not have a second guessing lizard following me,” Gabriel retorted.

“You aren't going back to robbery,” Jack snapped back. He cut a hand through the air, topped any protest Gabriel had gathered. Staring down the imposing form of the other man, a feat considering his seat position, Jack continued. “I freed you because I couldn't stand to see a man only doing what was best for his family being put to death because the law said so. Yes you stole and killed but so has half this country. Most of the men I fought beside in the war took from the towns we went through. No one is above another and it took an outlaw to show me that. Call it stupidity or a foolish sense of justice, I have seen too many men put to death simply for doing what they could to survive. I could not stand by and watch another one hang on the end of a noose swinging because justice needed to be served! That wasn't justice. They wanted a spectacle. A show to appease the masses. I've read too many headlines about the robbery going on by the law itself. Men taking everything from ranchers or farmers trying to get by and using the government’s mandates as sanctioning for their crimes.” Jack answered.

He felt the tips of his nails dig into his palms. The pain was a grounding agent. It gave him a point to focus on. At some point during the tirade Jack stomped to his feet, fists clenched at his side, breaths coming in heaves as the reality of the situation he was now in settled into his conscious. The change in position brought him even with Gabriel's smirking face. Jack swung, pure reaction, and slammed a fist into the other man's cheek. The outlaw didn't so much as stutter step, only held his ground and laughed.

“You've been holding that in for a while huh?” Gabriel mocked, one hand coming up to rub against where Jack's fist had caught his jaw.

“Yes.”

“Feel better? Or need to hit me again?” Gabriel's brow rose up, nearly disappeared underneath the lip of the hat still nestled over his shaven head.

“No.” Jack's hands closed the distance, grabbed the lapels of Gabriel's shirt and dragged the bemused outlaw close. The taste of cinnamon and whiskey wasn't there. It was replaced with something desperate and distinctly earthy. The smell of the open range and dust caking cloth and leather and skin. Jack groaned softly into Gabriel's chapped lips. The memory became reality again and he shivered, hands tightened into the shirt, tugging forward with the need of a drowned man. The kiss was quick, rushed and broken too soon. Jack huffed, pushed back by Gabriel's hand on his chest and the man's coffee eyes burned into the former lawman's.

“What're you doing?” Gabriel asked but his voice was husky, deeper than before.

“I don't know.” Jack's hands fell away, dropped to his sides as the bed bumped against the back of his calves.

“Then answer me this again Jack.” Gabriel didn't move. The silence from the blond incentive enough to continue. “You're not a peacekeeper and you're not the bad guy so what does that make you?”

“A very selfish man,” Jack growled, batted away the hand, and closed the gap. The resistance from before disappeared. Lips clashed, fingers gripped into cloth with the desperation of a decision that might soon change; searching for an anchor in a world that shifted too quickly and left him still reeling. Gabriel was that grounding point; the tie to which all his decisions sprouted. His frantic energy pushed through their connection, Jack's tongue licked across and sought access to more of the outlaw. It was given with a muffled laugh.

Jack's hands tightened in the rough fabric of Gabriel's shirt and spun them around. There was a moment of imbalance in which Gabriel broke away, brow raised, asking the question his preoccupied mouth couldn't. Jack surged forward again, pressed down, his tongue sought out the permission from before and Gabriel acquiesced. A shuffled moan escaped Jack's throat, his body melted into the hard muscle of the outlaw’s chest. Roughened hands moved from their white knuckle grip to pull Gabriel's shirt tails free, callouses of a hard life finding bare caramel skin. Jack felt Gabriel suck in a breath, stomach retracted at the cold touch of Jack's fingers. Those digits stroked the flesh revealed to them; firm from years of riding, fighting and hard labor. Gabriel's subtle tremble didn't go unnoticed and Jack broke contact.

Foreheads pushed together Jack stared into the half lidded eyes of the man who’d stolen everything from him. And Jack had let him.

“Tell me to stop if you don't want this.” Jack panted, licking swollen lips with a parched tongue. His hands rested against Gabriel's hips.  
  
“ _Cabrón_ don't even joke,” Gabriel snapped back, fist clenched into Jack's vest and yanked the lawman down to brush sharp teeth against Jack's jaw line. “Finish what you start, and stop teasing. I don't enjoy being a plaything.”  
  
Jack gulped, steeled himself and both hands reached forward, shoving Gabriel the final inch to push him off balance. The outlaw fell onto the bed, awkwardly landing on his elbows with the bedsprings groaning under the strain. Jack stood between the other man’s thighs, resting his hands on the strip of toned skin presented where Gabriel's shirt had slid up. He shucked off the jacket letting it pool behind him and the suspender straps followed suit. The edge of Gabriel's lips twitched up in a mocking smile. Jack replied with a soft snarl, sealing their lips again. Their chests pressed together, Jack’s eager fingers tugging the shirt up further until it bunched under Gabriel’s arms. His hands explored the planes and slopes of the outlaw, traced the slight dips of his hips, the curve of a pec, calloused fingertips running through the ebony hair covering those muscles.

The former lawman’s finally placed the taste of deep earth and the sun-baked prairie all gathered and collected in that kiss. Gabriel answered the eagerness with a groan, his hands just as curious, rubbing along Jack’s lower back, over the leather vest before he tugged the dirty white undershirt up to reveal the soft alabaster skin hidden underneath. His fingertips dipped into a star burst scar, traced the edges before moving up, cupping Jack’s shoulder blades and tugged the blond closer. They broke for a breath and both panting. Gabriel’s hands continued their work, shifted to the front and tugged on the vest.

There was a tearing sound they ignored as the outlaw’s fingers worked open the leather top and yanked it off of Jack’s shoulders. The vest was tossed away. It landed on the wooden floor forgotten as Gabriel tore open the front of the stained shirt. Buttons popped and Jack’s chest was on display. The muscles were not as defined and the fine hairs stood out against the pale muscles but their dirty blond color created a delicious contrast. Gabriel ran a hand along those abs, worshiped the lawman’s body with calloused touches. Jack watched, eyes glazed in silent wonder as the skill of those hands brought out small moans and shivers to his frame.

The outlaw was allowed an indulgence before Jack pinned down those wandering hands, holding them firm against Gabriel’s sides. The blond’s teeth found the other man’s jawline, worked down his throat, teased the flesh along his collarbone then stopped, listening to the sounds drawn from the outlaw’s chest. The shirt was still in the way. Taking the fabric in hand, Jack popped the buttons open one by one, moving at a slower pace, the slight uncertainty in his movements evident. Gabriel lifted back onto his elbows, slipped the shirt off each arm and it joined the vest on the floor. The broad expanse of Gabriel's chest exposed stilled Jack as summer sky blue eyes took in the details. The outlaw flexed, gauged the reaction and tossed his head back in a chortle when a dusty crimson crawled up the lawman's neck.

“You're hesitating.” Gabriel noted, adjusted his balance and pushed up to sit. His hands lay limp against his knees; his eyes now level with the unmistakable interest of the blond. Jack wasn’t sure when but at some point the black stetson that he had grown so used to seeing the outlaw wear lay precariously at the foot of the bed.

“Yes.” Jack combed a hand through his hair, ruffled the locks and let the appendage drop boneless to his side. “I've bedded plenty of woman but this-” His hand waved to encompass them and the bed with its gaudy threadbare quilt. “This is a fantasy. The reality of it just hit me I guess. Not that I'm inexperienced just… unsure. I get the idea of how it works but-”

Gabriel interrupted his rambling sentence when strong hands grabbed Jack's hips and the outlaw leaned forward to press a kiss to the hardened flesh hidden beneath tanned leather trousers. Jack's voice hitched, a moan cut through his ridiculous tirade.

“We can stop.” Gabriel said. He removed his hands and leaned back, fingers crossed behind his head to lay out across the bed. One booted foot still wrapped around Jack's calf rubbing at the flesh under the clothing.

“No! No,” Jack quieted his tone after the rushed exclamation. He was sure he sounded as desperate as his wound up body felt.

“Make up your mind but I'm not about pushing an issue you haven't even come to terms with,” Gabriel shrugged. His gaze drifted to the ceiling of the cabin, coffee eyes tracing the support beams. “You'll have to sleep on the floor though.”

“Now wait a minute. The beds big enough for two.” Jack grunted, arms crossed like a makeshift barrier.

“It is but I'm not sharing. You aren't the only selfish one Jack.” Gabriel snorted. The hint of laughter still danced on his face. His broad hand patted the bed beside him and Jack shifted his weight from one hip to the other.

Instead of rising to the bait the lawman bent down, palms braced on either side of the other man and put them within inches of each other. The space between filled with the physical tension that, since that first meeting in the desert at midnight with a shotgun barrel in his face, Jack had felt like a creeping presence followed hot on his heels. Gabriel’s brow raised, questioned the lawman and Jack chuckled, shaking his head, the absurdity of the situation drawing insanity to the surface.

“Fine.” Jack’s hand slapped against the quilt. “I want this.”

Gabriel smirked, the pad of his thumb reaching forward to trace the back of Jack’s knuckles, the quirk of his lips pushing for more information. Jack’s head fell down with a heavy sigh.

“Teach me.”

“Thought you would never ask.” Gabriel pushed up, shoved Jack back and grabbed the blond’s waist. His gun calloused fingers played across that alabaster skin. Then, without a word of warning, pulled Jack down beside him and swung around to straddle the lawman’s lap. “Listen. Don’t touch. I’ll do all the work so just sit back and…” Gabriel leaned forward, facial hair brushed against Jack’s throat, lips teasing the man’s veins as his hands worked at the ties in the leather trousers. The hardened and eager flesh underneath of the clothing was given a firm caress. Jack’s breath hitched, eyes half lidded, hands grappled onto the thick thighs keeping the lawman in place. This close Jack indulged in the outlaw’s musky, deep scent and the way that the man’s fingers worked free the bindings keeping the lawman’s cock trapped. “Enjoy.” Gabriel’s hand reached into the pants, grasped skin hidden underneath and wrapped his fingers around the hidden prize.

Jack groaned when the outlaw’s hands worked him. His eyes fell closed, mouth hung open in soft pants and he wondered how much practice Gabriel had at this. The cats at the saloon were enjoyable enough but this was the desire Jack suppressed brought to the surface. He let his control go, melted into the touch of the outlaw and those devilish hands. Gabriel’s fingers slide down the shaft, followed the curve of the hard flesh and a rough thumb played over the head of the lawman’s cock. His lips traced a path down Jack’s throat to junction of his shoulder and there Gabriel nipped and sucked a bruise into the smooth skin of the lawman’s chest. Jack nibbled on his bottom lip, grip tightened around the outlaw’s thighs and tugged on the sun baked material of Gabriel’s pants.

“Eager.” Gabriel murmured and sealed further complaints with a fierce, encompassing kiss. Jack fell onto the quilt under the pressure, back giving out yet his hands stayed bunched into Gabriel’s pants. Both of the outlaw’s hands pulled on the leather trousers. Gabriel reared back until his feet fell off the bed and hit the floor taking the trousers with him. Jack’s boots were quick to follow then the pants found a new home on the ground. Now laid out on the bed and covered only with the dusty linen shirt hanging off his shoulders, Jack felt the absolute exposure, knees drawn together in a vain attempt for modesty. Gabriel stopped the action, hands braced the lawman’s legs apart and kept him on display. “Don’t. Relax Jack. What did I say?”

“Let you do all the work.” Jack felt the brush of red across his face at the admittance. Gabriel’s tone held the distinct notion of a teacher reprimanding their student for daring to break the rules.

“Exactly.” Gabriel worked the ties of his own trousers free and dropped them down freeing his own arousal. The outlaw kicked off his black boots. They banged against the wall where they landed. The darker material of Gabriel’s pants fluttered forgotten on top of the boots. “Don’t move.” Gabriel slapped a hand against Jack’s knee to emphasize the point, turned on his heel and dug around in the cabinets. From this angle Jack watched, drank in the sight of the gorgeous lines and angles Gabriel’s naked body created. Despite the explicit instructions, Jack’s hand began working along his neglected cock, keeping his attention on Gabriel as the man finally found what he was searching for. The tin can in Gabriel’s hands was unlabeled and Jack was suspicious. That feeling was chased away with the outlaw quirked a brow, cleared his throat and pointedly looked down at Jack’s hand.

The lawman’s hand stopped in its ministrations and fell to the side. Jack’s expression was the personification of a smoking gun. Gabriel set the tin on the side table, dipped two fingers in and coated them in the can’s contents. Jack watched, body tense and unsure of what would come next but his mind ran rampant with possibilities. Gabriel once more straddled the lawman, powerful legs spread wide and holding up the outlaw’s body. The fingers coated in the contents of the tin can came around, held between them before that hand dipped down and ran the length of Jack’s cock with a pump. Gabriel’s thumb toyed with the head of the lawman’s member before moving away.

The white substance Jack recognized and opened his mouth to question the choice when, in the same instant, Gabriel reached behind his back and pressed a single finger inside himself. Jack felt his throat go dry. The slight scrunch to the outlaw’s brow, the mixture of moan and grunt, and the way Gabriel’s actions brought out a bountiful chorus of pleasure from the man made Jack’s cock twitched in anticipation. His hands reached up, touched the caramel thighs and felt the muscles move under his palms. Gabriel’s other hand came down and slapped away the lawman’s eager grip. A sharp click of the tongue in reprimand followed Gabriel’s warning.  _ Look. Don’t touch _ . Jack repeated in his head yet when he attempted to relieve his own pent up frustrations at watching the sinful display Gabriel put on he was met with the another slap and harsh reminder of the rules. Gabriel’s moans grew louder while he worked himself open. Jack licked his lips suddenly parched and palms itchy.

“You aren’t the best listener but you have patience.” Gabriel panted, removed his fingers and dipped them back down into the can. The substance inside coated the digits. The outlaw worked those palms over Jack’s cock and smirked as the over eager lawman’s hips bucked at the sudden attention. Jack’s hands bunched into the quilt attempting to find a steady rhythm. “And patience is rewarded.” With a small adjustment, Gabriel hovered over the lawman’s eager cock before sliding down. Even at the threat of being batted away Jack’s hands latched onto the other man’s legs, blue eyes slammed shut as his chest rumbled with a shuddering groan. Through the aid of the makeshift lubricant Jack reveled in the way that Gabriel’s body accepted him. The heat, the tightness that engulfed him turned Jack into a trembling mount. Gabriel was the rider.

“That's it.” The outlaw leaned forward, crashed against the swollen lips of the lawman in a deep kiss. Teeth and tongue battled as Gabriel milked a moan from the blond’s throat by rocking his hips. Jack fell into the rhythm of the their passionate dance. He embraced the press of thick thighs against his body. The brush of gun calloused hands across his scarred chest. The scratch of the rough facial hair against his own as Gabriel surged forward and deepened the kiss. The obscene volume as the noise of their bodies slide into another and Jack's hands scrambled for purchase. They broke apart for a breath. Gabriel drew away by teasing the lawman's puffy bottom lip between his teeth.

They became lost in each other. Gabriel growled out instructions and Jack followed like a dopey puppy; put his hands where the outlaw wanted them and hung on every word that flowed in Gabriel’s sensuous accent. Jack’s palm worked the heavy cock between them with Gabriel’s husky encouragement. Their bodies melded and encompassed one another. Jack’s uncertainty disappeared under the movement of the man on top of him. Their moans wove together into a symphony with the pounding of their bodies as the bass and Jack’s hands plucked at the outlaw, played Gabriel’s body like a guitar before a bonfire.

That blaze roared. Jack felt his spine stiffen, his toes curled as the heat built within his belly broke and his voice rose as the climax to their performance. Fingers gone numb for a moment, the outlaw dipped forward, slipped off of the lawman’s cock before taking both in hand. The blond cried out with the over stimulation as Gabriel worked himself to an end. An encore performance from the outlaw topped off the ensemble. Jack lay breathing in soft pants. He ignored the slick, quick drying mixture of makeshift lubrication and Gabriel’s essence. The man in question fell over, laying on his side, back facing the lawman. Jack’s reached out, traced a hand down the contours of the broad muscles presented to him. Gabriel jerked away when the lawman’s touch wandered too close to sensitive spots. The reaction brought a chuckle from the blond. The coffee gaze snapped up and narrow eyes glared over his shoulder at Jack’s expense.

“Didn’t figure you for the ticklish kind,” eyes closed Jack let his hand fall down limp onto the bed.

“I’m full of surprises.” The sarcasm in the words bit into the air of the cabin. Jack could hear the eye roll even as Gabriel’s head fell back down. A huff of his chest indicated the muted amused snort from the outlaw. Jack returned the expression with a contented sigh.  
  
“Me too.” Jack smirked. His hand wandered back and his fingers touched, splayed against the small of Gabriel’s back in a tender caress. Eventually the outlaw rolled over, pushed away the appendage and the duo settled into a comfortable barely there cuddle. Jack placed a kiss to the firm jaw, nipped at the edge of the gruff facial hair until Gabriel groaned. They fell back into a tumble of limbs and muttered curses with the outlaw holding the reins. 

\-----

Dusk fell hours ago. The fence line entrance into the familial ranch was familiar. Even having been a guest for a few weeks, Jack had the majority of the layout memorized. He couldn't follow the line perfectly but his horse was there to correct those uncertainties. Gabriel led the way, the two riding in a caddy-corner manner with both steeds huffing in annoyance at being awake at such a late hour. Jack patted the neck of his gelding. He agreed with the horse. The inhabitants would be asleep and that's what the duo wanted. Jack followed Gabriel on this and the outlaw had been clear in his decision that his mother and sisters wouldn't know about them passing through. The unassuming gift they left behind was to be the only clue.

No lamp or candle light shone from inside the homestead as Gabriel stopped his horse. The reins were thrown across the nearest fence post. Jack stayed mounted, handing the parcel down after procuring it from his saddlebags.

“Everything is there?” Gabriel asked, holding the brown wrapping. The package was a grain sack bundled around the remainder of Gabriel's bounty all tied and protected with packing paper and twine. The trapper’s cabin had been thoroughly searched to find even those supplies.

“Yes.” Jack assured not for the first time. He was keen on the idea but wanted to err with caution on this decision. Giving the lump sum of the money without holding even a morsel for their own ends seemed irresponsible. But Gabriel insisted. The convincing argument that the Reyes family wouldn't struggle for lack of money for at least a year won him over. That and the idea that Danielle would follow in her brother’s footsteps. One Reyes breaking the law with Robin Hood ideals of grandeur was enough. “It's all there.” Jack groused when Gabriel began bouncing the parcel, listening to the contents shifts inside as if the weight could back up the blond’s assurance.

“I believe you,” Gabriel smacked a hand against Jack's boot, turned and made for the house. In the dark the details were unclear. The cloudy sky obscuring the starlight didn't help matters. Amongst the sounds of the desert’s nocturnal creatures stirring, the creak of a bedspring was a shotgun blast. Jack's grip on his reins tightened and he saw the outline of Gabriel's form go stock still.

There was a shuffling, a soft bang and the wooden door creaked open. Standing in the doorway, the ugly pig will clung to her chest, Rose-Maria’s sleepy eyes gaze caught them both red handed. Gabriel was the first to movie.

 _“Little one. What are you doing awake?_ ” Gabriel approached her, knelt down to the young girl’s eye level.

“ _I heard a noise. What're you doing Gabi?”_ She yawned. Jack watched, listening in but still turning his horse to offer a semblance of privacy. If one family member was awake it wasn't a sure thing either Danielle or Frieda wouldn't soon follow.

“ _I'm dropping off a present,”_ Gabriel started, his tone hushed like a conspiracy, and set the package down at the little girl’s feet. He held a hand up to stop the excited reaction the word ‘present' garnered. _“Before I give this to you, you have to promise me you won't tell mama I was here alright?”_

Rose nodded as small hands grasped the parcel and held it against her chest. The doll was squished between her arms and brown wrapping. “ _Mama misses you Gabi. I miss you. When are you coming to stay?_ ” She asked. All the innocence of a child captured in three sentences.

“ _Not for a while little one. Maybe once I have a better job and can provide and care for you and Danielle and mama. When I can treat you like the ladies you are._ ” Gabriel sighed, forced out the morose turn to his voice and reached up, wrapping an arm around his sister. He pulled her into a bear hug. She returned it tenfold with a quick peck to his suntanned cheek.

“ _You promise to come back Gabi?”_ She said from within his grasp.

“ _I promise. And I'll bring you a whole herd of horses and more dolls than you'll know what to do with_ .” He brushed his nose against the little girl’s. With a pat on her head, Gabriel turned her about and pushed her back towards the house. _“Now go to sleep. You don't want mama to find you up past bedtime._ ”

“ _Alright but you promised. Don't forget.”_ Rose-Maria stopped at the doorway, waiting for the correct response.

“ _I promised. I'll be back soon_ . _Now go to bed._ ” Gabriel waved his hand and pushed up from his crouch. The worn leather of the reins rested easily in his hands.

“ _Gabi?”_ She still stood in the door.

 _“Little one you really should go to bed._ ” He admonished, swinging into the saddle.

 _“Tell the lawman he still can't have Cuca. I love her._ ” With that she darted into the house. The door creaked shut behind her; small hands trying to close the noisy contraption with as silent a squeak as possible.

“What did she say about my horse?” Jack asked when Gabriel started laughing. The outlaw clapped a hand to the blond’s shoulder, urging their horses forward and started down the trail.

“That you can't have her back. She's a little spitfire and I doubt God himself could take the horse from her now.” Gabriel grinned and even in the dark the mischief in his brown eyes shone bright.

“She's worse than you.” Jack grumbled, pulling alongside with a shake of his head.

“Worse than me? If I remember you're the selfish one Jackie,” Gabriel snorted. His broad hand flashed out, slapped the rump of the blond’s horse and sent the gelding into a wild canter. Jack buried his hands into the name to hold on, pulled the horse back under control and glared at the obnoxious rumble of near hysteria in Gabriel's voice.

“ _She’s just as stubborn as her older brother. I guess selfishness runs in the family_ ,” Jack snapped back. The look of surprise on Gabriel's face was well worth hiding his marginal understanding of the Spanish language.

“You son of a bitch! How much did you understand?”  
  
"Enough,” Jack retorted, kicked his horse into a gallop and rode off down the path with a cursing, flustered enigma of a man in pursuit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's it! Tried to write a harlequin romance novel yet still deal with some serious issues given the time period. Hopefully ya'll enjoyed reading as much as I did writing. This was a HUGE labor of love and I enjoyed every minute of writing it!
> 
> Can always find me on Tumblr or Twitter at: captainxcorgi!  
> Kudos are appreciated! Comments are adored and always replied to!


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